


Wolf Like Me

by filthynebula



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, There's Murder, and slowburn ofc, eve is classic eve, there's mystery, there's people gettin mauled, villanelle is a werewolf, wanted to do something spooky-ish for october
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 86,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthynebula/pseuds/filthynebula
Summary: Eve arrives in Blackmoor to investigate the death of her closest friend. Villanelle lives in the nearby manor that everyone in town says is cursed. As the investigation brings both women together, Eve finds herself increasingly fascinated by Villanelle even as she learns that, in Blackmoor, there's a reason no one goes out at night in the light of a full moon.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 237
Kudos: 426





	1. when the sunset shifts

**Author's Note:**

> hey friends, just wanted you to know that this was inspired by 3 things:  
> 1) the Wolfman movie (2010)  
> 2) the Wolf Like Me cover by the Darcys (OG song by TV on the radio which is also amazing but the Darcys just had to go and make it slow and emo)  
> 3) my deep, deep love of absolutely Feral women
> 
> all chapter titles are pulled from Wolf Like Me lyrics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy october/halloween/autumn, hope y’all enjoy!

Twigs snapped underneath her bare feet as she ran. Leaves crunched, and the smaller creatures of the forest scurried and scampered in their efforts to flee from her path. An owl hooted indignantly from nearby, disgruntled that she had frightened away its midnight meal. One look at her, however, and it squawked and flew away. She ran on two legs until a phantom instinct told her not to: something buried by day but unlocked in the nighttime hours. She hinged forward and began running on all fours like a massive beast. A terrifying monster.

_I am a beast_. _I am a monster._

It wasn’t a conscious thought, really. More of a sensation. Born at the base of her skull, it reverberated down her spine until it met the earth beneath her feet, and was left behind.

_I am a beast._

_I am._

_I._

It became foggier with each loping stride until there was only the chase, the hunt, the driving force of running forwards. She weaved around great pines and dodged massive oaks. She could taste rain on her tongue, some already fallen, some yet to come. Mist curled like ghostly fingers around tree trunks and bare bushes. There was a crispness to the air that came only in autumn.

_Autumn._

That voice in her head. She ignored it or tolerated it, but she could never be rid of it. She had tried before, tried running and howling and hunting. Nothing would silence that voice. It didn’t speak often, but when it did it always seemed to have the power to turn her into a stumbling pup. Something about it reduced her instincts to nothing but echoes.

She looked up and slowed to a halt. Clouds dotted the sky. She focused on one. Its eerie, puffy shape moved quickly, blown by a wind that reached only the highest levels of the atmosphere. It peeled back to reveal a full, bright moon. An autumn moon.

Another instinct came alive, something beyond her control. An impulse she couldn’t ignore. She gazed at the moon in wonder, revelling in its totality. She threw her head back and sang.

* * *

Villanelle awoke in her garden. It was a dead and dreary thing, with summer long gone and winter around the corner. She was laying amongst dirt and rotting plants. In the height of summer, it had been a bed of roses. Thorny remnants itched at her sides and back. She winced as she heaved herself out of the decaying undergrowth, as naked as the day she’d been born.

She rubbed at her head irritably. It pounded low and hard in her skull. She scowled and took stock of her body. A few scrapes, a couple of scratches, but all in all it could have been worse. It was certainly not the worst shape she’d woken up in. She rose to her feet and dusted herself off before walking serenely towards the manor, unbothered by the cold air and the morning’s frost under her bare feet.

Konstantin would probably be upset with her, in which case would refrain from putting on any clothes until he found her. That way he would be too uncomfortable to chastise and lecture her. She chuckled to herself. Considering what he knew about her, what she was, it never ceased to amuse her that _nudity,_ of all things, was what made the man shy away from her.

She had _killed people_. She had killed people in the night and woken up the next morning none the wiser. She eventually found out from the reports that came in from town. Those mornings Konstantin would look at her with some odd mix of pity and awe, but he wouldn’t even peek at her naked body the times when she strolled around with not a stitch of clothing on her.

Villanelle smirked to herself as she reached one of the side doors of the manor. Konstantin had a faulty moral compass, to be sure, but apparently, this brand of chivalry mattered greatly to him. To her, it made no difference. There were worse things in the world than to be naked in one’s skin.

* * *

With an apprehensive look at the small stone building, Eve climbed trepidatiously out of the cab. She hauled her well-worn, battered suitcase out of the trunk and waved at the cabbie through the back window of the sedan. She had to turn abruptly to avoid the spray of dust when he sped off down the shoddy, cobbled road.

“Prick,” she muttered before she inhaled a cloud of dirt and began to cough.

It had been an awkward cab ride, to say the least. The man had tried to chat with her about where she was headed and why, but Eve was headed to a small village that barely counted as a speck on the map, and she wasn’t allowed to talk about her work, so those two avenues for chatter had dried up fast. Eve hadn’t been in the mood to reciprocate with conversational topics of her own.

Instead, she’d spent the majority of the car ride staring out the window, watching London be replaced by rolling hills and meadows. The countryside had sped by and Eve had watched as they’d passed around and through progressively smaller towns. She envied those people their tiny lives while she struggled to keep her head above water in the city.

She sighed, lost in thought, dust and suitcase forgotten.

Niko had left her six months ago. Or had she left him? She could no longer keep track of the narrative they told themselves, always laying the blame on one another, never resolving the real issue: that they just didn’t love each other anymore. How could you solve that, anyway?

Turns out, with a divorce.

And then, with her marital life crumbling around her, Eve had been informed by her boss, Carolyn Martens, that her coworker and closest friend, Bill Pargrave, had been killed. He had been investigating strange events in a small town in the English countryside. It was a hazard of the job, Carolyn had said, given the kind of work that they did. But it hadn’t made it any easier to accept Bill’s death.

One day he had been there, her friend and primary support during her divorce. The next day, he was gone. Swept under the rug and forgotten. Carolyn hadn’t seen the point in continuing Bill’s work in the town, a rundown village called Blackmoor, and had planned instead to close the case for the foreseeable future. When Eve had caught wind of that plan, she had cornered her boss in a dingy hallway in their building and had insisted that she be allowed to go to the town and wrap up the loose ends herself. Carolyn, not one to turn down someone who was willing to put their own neck on the line, had agreed to let her go. That had been two weeks ago.

Having finally arrived, one look at Blackmoor had Eve wondering if she’d made a huge mistake. The town, if it could be called that, was small and rustic. In the late afternoon sun, it looked like the scene from a postcard depicting some World Heritage site. Eve had trouble imagining how a place like it could still exist in the modern world. She felt wholly removed from time, standing on the side of the road with her trusty little suitcase.

The decaying cobblestone street on which she stood drew a narrow line between a smattering of stone buildings that looked to be on the verge of collapse. One huff of breath from the big bad wolf and they would all fall down in an instant. Most of the rooftops were lined with ceramic tiles in various shades of brown, orange, and red, although Eve caught a glimpse of a few thatched roofs down the way.

_Thatched roofs._ She was beginning to feel as though she’d walked into the early 19th century.

Beyond the main road, there wasn’t much else to see. A few buildings tucked away here and there, sheep bleating in the distance from a nearby farm. The weather was warm and pleasant for autumn, but she’d been warned that it would get cold overnight. Her suitcase was packed with turtlenecks and pants, and a pair of warm mittens too. She hoped it would be enough. Blackmoor clearly wasn’t a place to do any kind of shopping.

The distant barking of a dog pulled Eve out of her thoughts and reminded her that she was still standing motionless in the street. The building she had been dropped off at was two storeys of narrow stone with a steeply slanted tile roof. It seemed sturdy and well taken care of, which she supposed was the least she could ask of a place that looked as though modern architecture had completely passed it by. Affixed to the front wall of the house was the building number: 18. Eve didn’t think there were more than twenty buildings in the entirety of Blackmoor. Below the house number was a small wooden plaque. It read:

_Turner Residence and Guestrooms_

The house was going to be her hotel, of sorts. Her accommodations had been arranged by Kenny, her tech wizard coworker and her boss’ son. He would be her main point of contact with the outside while she stayed in Blackmoor. She was already looking forward to calling him just to remind herself that modern society still existed.

Unsure of what to expect of the Turner Residence and Guestrooms, Eve trudged up to the door with her suitcase in tow. She tried the handle and when she found it locked, she raised her hand and knocked on the thick wooden door.

Several moments passed and no one answered. Eve sighed and tried again, rapping her fist harder. She was ready to try a third time when she finally heard the sound of a deadbolt being unlocked, and another mechanism, maybe a chain, being unfastened as well. She wasn’t sure how that made her feel. Clearly, the owners were concerned about security, which was at once both reassuring and worrying. Eve couldn’t imagine what kind of crimes would be taking place in a backwoods town like Blackmoor, but she supposed that was what she was there to find out.

The door opened to reveal a young man in his twenties. His short, unruly brown hair framed a smug-looking face. Eve immediately found it annoying. It wasn’t a conscious decision, some instinct just told her that this smarmy kid would irritate her, somehow.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, it’s Eve Polastri, I’m booked to stay in your guestroom.”

The young man looked her up and down and grinned. “Of course.” He stepped aside and welcomed her into the house with an exaggerated flourish of his hand. “And what would bring a woman as lovely as yourself to the shithole that is Blackmoor?”

Eve fought the urge to roll her eyes and stepped into the house. The front entryway had been made into a crude sort of lobby, with a desk to one side and a couch and area rug opposite. Straight ahead, Eve could see a hallway that extended to a small kitchen. To the right were a set of old, wooden stairs that led to the second level.

“I’m here for work,” Eve told the man as she glanced around. “So am I upstairs or..?”

“Ms. Polastri-”

“’Eve’ is fine.”

The man grinned again. “Eve, please, I have to check you in first. Then I can give you the grand tour.”

Eve really did roll her eyes that time and turned to face the young man who was so expertly getting on her nerves. He was dressed in a sweater with a collared shirt underneath, and a nice-looking pair of corduroy pants. He looked too pretentious for Blackmoor. Eve cocked her head. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Hugo.” He flashed a smile.

“Hugo,” Eve repeated, committing the man and his name to memory. She supposed she shouldn’t pass up the opportunity to talk to a local, especially one as chatty as him. “Well, check me in then, I guess. Maybe while you do I can ask you a few questions about the town?”

Hugo grinned his cocky grin and walked over to the desk. He pulled out a small binder and began leafing through. “What would you like to know?”

“Any murders recently?”

Hugo coughed loudly in surprise before he looked up at Eve, his face an image of shock. “What- what kind of work are you here for?” he stammered.

“I’m investigating a recent death. A homicide, I believe.” Eve took a breath and decided to dive right in. “This man-” she pulled a photo of Bill from her jacket pocket, “-was here about a month ago. He died here. I believe he was killed here, actually. Would you happen to know anything about that? Have you ever seen him before?” She tapped the photo with her finger.

Hugo was completely taken aback. His eyes darted from the photo of Bill to Eve and back to the photo. His mouth worked noiselessly until he found the nerve to clear his throat. “I- uh, I haven’t seen that guy, I swear. I heard about a death a while ago though. Maybe it was him? It was, uh-” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “-it was pretty grisly, I heard. It was at the Westfield Farm Campgrounds, outside of town, I think.”

Eve kept her face expressionless as she took in the information, but internally she was feeling a rising excitement. Not even one day in town and she was already making headway. She put the photo of Bill back into her pocket. “Thank you, Hugo. That’s very helpful. Now, how about checking me in?”

Hugo swallowed and nodded hurriedly, turning his attention back to the binder on the desk. “Polastri, room 2, upstairs.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a small iron key. “Here’s, uh, here’s the key to your room.”

It was obvious that Eve’s questions about a possible murder had thrown the young man off his game. Eve let her lips pull into a slight smirk as Hugo tried to compose himself.

“So, uh, the rooms upstairs on the right. We have another guest right now in room 1, across the hall-”

Eve raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Another guest? Popular place.”

Hugo ignored the comment, still put off-balance by the topic of murder. “The guest bathroom is shared and at the end of the hall. We provide breakfast in the morning between 6 and 10 and dinner in the evenings at 7:30. This-” he pulled another key from the drawer, “-is your key to the front door, which is locked at all times. Please remember to lock it when you leave the, uh, the house.”

With that, he handed Eve the keys. Just as she was about to turn and head upstairs, he added hurriedly, “The manor.”

“Excuse me?”

“The manor. It’s, uh, it’s a big mansion a little way out of town. Real creepy place. Everyone here says it’s cursed.”

“Does anyone live there?”

Hugo nodded slowly. “A young woman and some old man, I think. We hardly ever see them so I, uh, I don’t know much else.”

Eve did her best attempt at a warm, thankful smile. “Thank you, Hugo. That’s all very helpful information to have.”

“Yeah, no problem, Eve.” As he said Eve’s name he seemed to collect himself, a bit of his cocky attitude returning. “And please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything while you’re here.” He had the audacity to wink at her. Eve almost wanted to applaud him on his brazenness.

“Right.” She turned away before he could say anything else, and set to carrying her suitcase up the old, creaking stairs.

The second floor of the house somehow felt narrower than the first. The beige walls with their faintly peeling paint weren’t doing it any favours. The hallway was short and split into three rooms: room 1 on the left, room 2 on the right, and the bathroom at the end of the hall, just as Hugo had said. Eve set her suitcase back onto the floor and unlocked the door to her room. She stepped inside and immediately closed the door behind her. Inspecting it, she found that it had two deadbolts. Again, she wasn’t sure if they were a comforting sight or not.

Turning back to face her room, Eve took it in with tempered expectations. Sure enough, the room was nothing special. Plain walls framed the room which held a narrow single bed, a wooden bedside table, a small wooden dresser, and a square window that looked out onto the roof of the neighbouring single storey house.

Eve eyed the bed dubiously before collapsing heavily onto the edge of it. A small digital clock sat on the nearby table, next to an old lamp. Its dull, red numbers displayed the time: 5:49 pm. Eve sighed. It was too early for dinner, too early for sleep, but she didn’t much like the idea of staying in her dingy hotel room for two hours just to eat and go to bed immediately afterwards.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and debated giving Kenny a call. A few seconds later, she decided against it, and instead opened the web browser to search for information on the Westfield Farm Campgrounds.

The internet was slow. In the corner of its screen, her phone displayed just one measly bar of service and an archaic 3G network logo. Eventually, the webpage loaded, and she found the basic information she’d been looking for. The campsite was located a short distance away from Blackmoor, and the directions to get there were relatively easy.

Eve stood up and checked her jacket pockets to make sure she had everything she might need: the keys to the house and her room, and her wallet. She was travelling light, it seemed. She slipped her phone into the pocket with all the rest, wheeled her suitcase into one corner of the bedroom, and made for the door.

As she stepped out of her room, Eve caught sight of movement across the narrow hallway. A woman, presumably the other guest, was closing the door to her room behind her. Between the door frame and the door itself, Eve could see the sliver of a face, of nervous-looking eyes. Eve acted on instinct, waving awkwardly. “Hi, I’m Eve.”

The closing of the door paused, and Eve watched as the woman peered through the narrow opening at her. “Hello, Eve.”

Eve thought the woman’s voice sounded Russian, and she could just see tendrils of wispy brown hair framing her face. “And you are?”

The door shut abruptly. Eve stood confused for a moment before she let out a huff and turned to lock her door. She muttered under her breath as she did it, put off by the rudeness of the other woman.

Trudging down the stairs, Eve caught sight of Hugo in the lobby. He was lounging on the couch with his phone in his hands, his lips pulled into what Eve had now assumed was his characteristic smirk. She made a mental note to ask him more about himself later, maybe over dinner. Questions like why he was living in Blackmoor when he had the bearing of an Oxford-bound prick. Eve reached the bottom of the stairs and cleared her throat expectantly. Hugo looked up from the couch.

“Hi, Eve.” He grinned. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m going to visit that campsite you mentioned, Westfield Farm? Any ideas on how I can get there? Blackmoor doesn’t seem like it’d have a car rental service.”

“Oh,” Hugo rose from the couch. “Actually we let guests use our car here at the Turner Residence and Guestrooms.”

Eve raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. “Really? You just let strangers take your car?”

Hugo shrugged. “My mum and dad don’t use it too much, and they know Blackmoor isn’t exactly a bustling city. Every so often when guests come through they want to drive out to a picnic spot and appreciate the local landscape.”

“That seems both highly irresponsible and ill-advised.”

Hugo shrugged again. “Haven’t had any problems so far. So, you need the car?”

Eve felt uneasy about taking the Turners vehicle but she didn’t have any other way of getting herself to the campground. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Great-” Hugo brushed by her and began walking down the hall to the back of the house. “-Right this way then.”

He led Eve through the doorway she had seen when she first arrived. As she’d suspected, it did lead to a small kitchen. The room had vinyl countertops over wooden cupboards and cabinets, and an old electric stove next to a fridge. What struck Eve most was how clean it was, as though it had recently been washed and wiped down that afternoon.

Hugo must have seen her looking because he turned over his shoulder and told her, “My mum’s a clean freak.”

“Hm.”

To the right of the kitchen was an open archway which led to a small foyer at the back of the house. Several pairs of shoes lay scattered to one side, and Eve understood that this was the back door of the house, and presumably the Turners’ main entrance and exit.

“Lots of shoes,” Eve pointed out casually. “Is everyone home?” She found it odd that she’d had yet to meet any other members of the Turner family, although she supposed she had only been there a short while.

“Mum and Dad are sleeping,” Hugo replied as he slipped on his shoes. “My sister’s probably holed up in her room reading a book.”

With that, Hugo unlocked the back door and led them outside. Eve noticed that the back door had several deadbolts, just like the door to her room.

“Why all the deadbolts?” she asked as Hugo led her along the back side of the house and towards a car parked on a small gravel driveway. The rest of the backyard was occupied by long, yellowing grass, and a small storage shed stood in one corner.

“Oh, uh,” Hugo didn’t turn to look at her, and Eve got the distinct impression that he wanted to avoid answering her question. “People are superstitious out here, and, uh, paranoid is all.”

“Hm,” Eve hummed. She wanted more information. Her curiosity was growing inside of her but she reigned it in. Her first order of business was to investigate what had happened to Bill. All other curiosities could wait.

“So, here it is,” Hugo announced as they reached the car.

It was a small, grey sedan. It looked old but in decent condition, with no rust spots or paint chips or broken windows. Hugo pulled the key out from the pocket of his pants and handed it to Eve. “Should be okay on gas, but try not to let it get below a quarter tank because the nearest fuel station is about fifty kilometres from here.”

Eve took the key and glanced at the car apprehensively. “You’re really just about to give me your family’s car? Has anyone ever stolen your car before?”

Hugo looked at her and grinned. “Well, no. We have your information, remember? Eve Polastri from London. I have your phone number. If you ran off with our car we’d just report you.”

“Oh.”

Eve stepped away from Hugo and toward the car. She unlocked it, opened the door, and climbed in. It smelled like coconut. She glanced over and saw an air freshener fastened to one of the AC vents on the dash. “Nice touch,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She turned the key in the ignition and felt the car come to life. The fuel tank was just over half full. “How long of a drive is it to Westfield Farm Campgrounds?”

When Eve had searched up the information earlier, she hadn’t been paying too much attention to the directions. She hadn’t thought that she’d be driving herself there that same day.

Hugo mulled it over for a moment before answering, “About 30 minutes, I think? You need directions?”

She did, but she didn’t feel like entertaining Hugo’s company any longer. She would pull over outside of town and look it up herself. “No,“ she told him curtly, “I’ll map it on my phone.”

“Service is a bit spotty out here. I wouldn’t rely on it if I were you. But there’s a map in the glovebox if you get lost.”

Eve looked dubiously at her phone, and then at the glovebox. “Alright, thanks for the heads-up.”

She was about to shut the door when Hugo added, “Try to be back in time for dinner!”

Eve flashed him a reassuring smile. She hoped it conveyed the gist of ‘yes, I will be back in time for dinner’. Then, she shut the door, buckled her seatbelt, and put the car into drive. As she pulled out of the Turners’ driveway, she adjusted the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of Hugo watching her. She thought that he looked perturbed by something, but he was a shrinking figure, a shrinking concern, and she decided to pay him no mind.

The driveway led onto the main street of Blackmoor, the one Eve had been unceremoniously dropped onto earlier that day. She remembered from her brief search earlier that the campsite was to the north, and she turned right onto the main road to follow a generally northward direction out of town. Within thirty seconds she’d left Blackmoor behind; it’s cobblestones and thatch and suffocating smallness. The road became a shoddily paved country lane and Eve pulled over at the next spot that had a modicum of a shoulder before the ground beyond the highway dipped into a nearby ditch.

With the car stopped and her hazard lights on, Eve pulled out her phone. She was thankful to see that she still had a bit of service, and she opened her navigation app and entered the campsite’s name in the search bar. An excruciatingly long moment later, the result popped up and she found her directions.

The estimated driving time was 23 minutes. It was a straight shot up the road Eve was on for about 20 minutes, and then a left turn for the final 5 or so. Easy as could be. Eve made a mental note of the names of the roads and then locked her phone and dropped it into one of the dusty cupholders in the centre console. She turned off the hazard lights and pulled back onto the highway.

As she drove, Eve found herself becoming a little more understanding as to why people would choose to live in a ghost town like Blackmoor. She had no particular love of the city and had always found small towns alluring, but five minutes in Blackmoor had had her ready to rescind that opinion.

The surrounding countryside, however, was gorgeous. Autumn colours had taken to the leaves, oranges and yellows canopied the parts of the road that were flanked by tall trees. For part of the drive she could stare out her window at endless rolling fields, some clinging to the green of summer, others yellow with harvest and hay. The sky above her was clearing up as the evening approached, a final show of shining blue against the horizon before the advancing sunset. Eve began to feel at ease, the knot in her stomach unravelling.

When she’d signed on to investigate Bill’s death, she’d been so motivated by grief and despair that she hadn’t paused to think about the act of investigation itself. The emotional exhaustion of asking people again and again if they’d seen Bill, what they might know, where should she look. The early lead with Hugo had helped. She hadn’t had to poke and prod at every local in town. She was worried it wouldn’t always be so easy, but with the countryside to calm her, she was feeling some of her anxieties lessen somewhat.

As she continued, the road wound its way through a small forest. Aspens and poplars and oaks surrounded her, their strong shapes solid and comforting. The forest wasn’t wide, Eve could still see the open fields in the distance, but the shelter felt enveloping. She felt that she enjoyed it as much as the wide, open road.

Before long, she had made it to the campsite. The forest ended where the campgrounds began and Eve pulled the Turners’ car into the main parking lot, which was little more than a patch of smooth dirt. Climbing out of the car, Eve took in as much of the campgrounds as she could, committing it to memory.

It was rustic, little more than a wide, open field marked with an open gate and a bulletin board. The campground wasn’t quite empty, however, which surprised Eve given that it was getting a bit late in the camping season.

A wooden fence surrounded an area of what she estimated was about five acres of land. In the distance, she could see a farmhouse and barn, which she assumed to be the Westfields’. The campground itself was large and well-maintained. It was in one of the fields that still had vibrant, green grass in the middle of autumn. It was bordered by trees but otherwise mostly bare. About six of the campsites were occupied, with cars parked next to pitched tents. A few of them had campfires going, and Eve watched people mill about, enjoying the last bit of daylight before sundown.

The entrance where Eve had parked was marked by a large wooden archway. It reminded her of the driveway to a cattle ranch, the kind she’d seen on road trips during her childhood in America. Passing through it, Eve walked over to the bulletin board she’d noticed earlier. On it were faded instructions on proper camp check-in and set up, as well as a list of rules. Next to the faded sign was a newer one that detailed autumn camping protocols, hours of operations, and the date of the campground's closure for winter. Then Eve looked to the final notice pinned on the board: a police warning about a recent death in the area.

Reading it over, she was disappointed to find that it gave her no new information. The warning was vague at best, declaring that a man had been found dead in the area several weeks ago and that campers should take extra caution after nightfall. No names mentioned, no possible cause of death. Eve sighed and turned from the board, feeling her sense of peace from the car threatening to dissipate.

While the notice board had been a dead-end, she hoped that maybe she could gather a bit of information from the campers. She trudged into the open field and made her way to the nearest occupied campsite.

The people she approached appeared to be a young couple in their late 20s. A man and a woman sat next to each other in folding lawn chairs in front of a small fire. Their navy blue tent was pitched a few metres away next to their old, battered station wagon. As Eve approached she waved and called out a greeting. The pair looked confused but waved back as Eve closed the distance between them.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about the campground?”

The man, who had long brown hair and a rugged beard, looked up at her warmly. With his red and black flannel, Eve thought he looked like a lumberjack. “Sure, are you thinking of camping here?”

“Oh, uh, yes? Yes.” Eve went with it. It was easier than explaining what she was actually there for. She continued, “But I saw the sign as I came in- there was a death here recently?”

At the mention of the death, the man’s companion, a young woman with coiled, black hair and a cream-coloured merino wool sweater, frowned and spoke up. “Yes, there was. But someone insisted we camp here anyway, despite the fact that it’s creepy as fuck.”

“It adds a bit of mystery and intrigue,” the man insisted, turning from Eve to look at his partner.

“Only you would say that-”

“Okay!” Eve interjected, having zero desire to be pulled into some sort of dispute. “I didn’t mean to hit a nerve, I’m sorry. I was just wondering if either of you had heard anything about the death?”

The man turned back to Eve. “No, not really. Just that some guy was found dead in the woods nearby-”

“-You mean found mutilated in the woods,” the woman spoke up. She sighed heavily as she turned to address Eve. “The police weren’t giving out many details to the public, but I heard it was gruesome. The guy was all mangled. I think they said it might’ve been wolves.”

“If it wasn’t wolves then someone real fucked up is still on the loose,” the man added casually. Eve got the impression that he was nowhere near as concerned about the event as his companion was.

Eve was about to thank them for their help, however limited it had been, when the man spoke up again. “My guess is it’s some crazy from Blackmoor. That town is all kinds of weird.”

Eve dialled back in. “What did you say?”

“Blackmoor.” The man shrugged. “Have always heard that it’s a really weird town. Cursed or something. Haunted maybe? Anyway, my guess is someone from there finally snapped. Can you blame them, being stuck in a place like that all your life?” He looked first at Eve and then at his partner, awaiting some kind of agreement. When none came he shrugged and pushed out of his chair. “I’m going to grab a beer.”

As he walked off, Eve turned her attention back to the woman. “I guess I better be going. I am sorry if I caused you any trouble.”

The woman sighed. “No trouble that wasn’t already coming. You take care, and seriously, take my advice- look for another campground. This one isn’t worth the heebie-jeebies.”

Eve smiled and nodded before turning away and heading back towards the car. She shivered as, her attention no longer focused on the conversation, she realized that night had nearly fallen. The sun was almost done setting, the last rays of its light shining a faint glow in the sky. From the east, the black blanket of dusk was slowly creeping forward.

Eve checked her phone and swore under her breath: it was after 7 o'clock. With the drive still left ahead of her, she would be hard-pressed to make it back to the Turners before dinner. So much for making a good impression on her hosts.

Nightfall was rapid once the sun had fully set. Autumn was gorgeous in the daylight but quick to turn callous in the dark. Eve stumbled over uneven ground in the low light as she wandered back to the car, and by the time she reached the parking lot she was starting to see her breath, its pale cloud reminding her of ghost stories.

She wasn’t sure why but she was strangely relieved when she made it to the car. She opened the door hurriedly and shut it with equal fervour. At first, she couldn’t understand where her sudden fear had come from. Then she realized it must be something to do with Bill’s death. Searching around for clues by day was one thing, but being alone in the dark near the location of his possible murder? That was another.

Eve was about to start the car when her phone rang. It startled her so badly she nearly jumped out of her seat. The caller ID told her it was Kenny.

“Kenny, hi.”

“Hi, Eve. How’s Blackmoor?”

“It’s, uh-” Eve paused, unsure how to describe the village without making it sound too awful. If she made a fuss, Carolyn might request that she return to London. “You could say it has a certain charm.”

“Really?” Kenny’s voice came through sounding surprised.

“I said you _could_ say that,” Eve clarified. “Are you just calling to check-in or did you have something for me?”

Talking about work felt good, especially talking to Kenny. She felt her tension subside slightly even as dusk settled around her.

“Mostly just to check-in. You’ve hardly been there half a day, I didn’t think you’d have made much progress yet.”

“Actually,” Eve balanced her phone between her ear and her shoulder and rubbed her hands together to warm them up. “I’m at the campground where Bill died.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s the Westfield Farm Campground.”

“Right, right.” There was a pause, and Eve heard the sound of a clacking keyboard on Kenny’s side of the line. “Westfield Farm, established in 1865 by Jacob Westfield. The farm’s main business was the growing of wheat and barley until 1982 when the family cleared a 5-acre plot of land to open a campground.”

“That’s all great, Kenny,” Eve interrupted, grabbing the phone from her shoulder, “but do you think you could give me some more recent news? Something in the last month? Reports on Bill’s death?”

“Uh, hang on.” Another long pause. “Not much to tell, really. It’s so out in the middle of nowhere that his death didn’t make any major news cycle. A couple of local papers mention a man mauled by wolves in that area last month. May be referring to Bill?”

“Maybe.” Eve let the silence hang between them before asking the thing that had been on her mind since leaving Blackmoor. “Kenny, do you have any idea why Bill would even be out here in the first place?”

“The campground, you mean?”

“Yes.” Eve let out a sigh of exasperation. “I know he was investigating Blackmoor, but the campground doesn’t seem to be connected. Why would he have come out here?”

“I can do some digging if you’d like? Maybe there was something that got overlooked in his files.”

“Sure, Kenny, that’d be great.” Eve ran her free hand through her hair. “Keep me posted? I should probably get going. I’m borrowing my hosts’ car. Which, by the way, the Turner Residence and Guestrooms? Really?”

“It’s Blackmoor’s only hotel.”

“-’Hotel’ is a generous term-”

“Still.”

“Alright. Well, thanks again, Kenny.”

“No problem,” he replied, and then the line went dead. Eve dropped her phone into the cupholder and put the key in the ignition.

Before starting the car, she gazed out at the campground ahead of her. Through the windshield, she could see the dim lights of campfires and electric lamps dotting the field. She supposed that the campground would be quite beautiful in the summer, with late sunsets and starlight and more people to keep it lively. In autumn, however, and under the shadow of Bill’s death, Eve found something chilling in the way the lights flickered in the darkness.

And yet, it wasn’t as dark as it could’ve been. Nightfall had come but the sky was cloudless. Eve peered over the steering wheel and tilted her head towards the sky. The moon was rising, bright and full. The sight of it, along with the knowledge that it would help light her way home, was comforting.

As she set her sights back to the campground, she turned the key and let the engine roar. The clock on the dash read 7:36. She muttered to herself about dinner before putting the car in reverse, turning to the highway, and beginning the drive back to Blackmoor.

As she pulled onto the highway, the openness of the campground disappeared behind her and she was once again surrounded by trees. Where they had been solid and comforting earlier, they suddenly seemed twisted and sinister. The headlights of the Turners’ car illuminated the narrow road and not much else, giving Eve only glances of branches and bark. The rest of the forest lay shrouded in darkness, the moonlight that shone through its leaves reaching only scattered patches of ground. Eve’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. She wondered about turning on the radio but decided against it. It felt offensive to the forest. She continued in silence instead.

She didn’t have much experience with nighttime driving in the countryside. It was nothing like the city, with its street lights and neon signs and the everpresent hum of traffic. The countryside was quiet and still and foreboding at night. Eve regretted leaving Blackmoor so late in the day.

She hadn’t been driving for very long before the deer jumped in front of the car. One second there was the highway, and the next, brown fur and wide eyes. Eve screamed and braked. The car screeched as it slowed. There was a definite thud of something, an impact around the hood, but it all took place so fast that Eve couldn’t be sure what had happened.

And then suddenly, the moment was over, and she was sitting in a stopped car, panting hard and feeling sick.

“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit,” she swore as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

Eve climbed out of the car in a rush, leaving the door wide open and the car still running. As she came around the front of the car, she held her breath, half-expecting to see a scene of carnage splattered about on the roadway.

What she found instead was what looked to be a very minor collision. The car had taken minimal damage and the only thing that appeared to be affected was the passenger-side headlight: wrecked and not working, the light inside had likely shattered. As for the deer, she found nothing. It seemed she’d only clipped it, and she could hear rustling and pained huffing coming from the trees off the highway. A small blotch of blood stained the broken headlight but otherwise, everything appeared to be fine.

As for Eve, the image of the deer refused to leave her, its eyes wide and terrified. Her hands shook as she wandered back to her open door and she felt unsteady on her feet despite the solid pavement beneath her. As she reached for the door to steady herself, she heard movement in the forest around her.

The sudden snapping of twigs. Crunching leaves. Eve froze, paralyzed by fear and adrenaline that hadn’t yet worn off from the collision. And then suddenly, the night was quiet around her. The car hummed but its noise seemed to fade out of reality. Eve strained her ears, listening for another sound from the woods, trying to hold her breath inside her so that even it couldn’t be heard.

A moment passed in silence, maybe even several minutes. Moonlight shone down in ghostly rays that touched only smatterings of the forest. Eve let out her breath. A wolf howled nearby.

Too close nearby. Images of the injured deer flashed in her mind, and Eve’s heart jumpstarted her body into action as she pulled herself into the car. Another wolf howled, or was it the same? Closer this time, and Eve had no interest in seeing just how many were in the pack. She threw herself into the car and slammed the door shut behind her. As fast as she could, she had the tires screeching again as she stepped on the gas and sped down the highway.

Maybe the campers had been right, that it had been wolves that had killed Bill, and yet Eve found that hard to accept. Whatever the cause of Bill’s death, she wasn’t able to think clearly about it as she accelerated down the road. She was keeping her eyes peeled on the highway in front of her. She didn’t want to risk another collision with an animal, and with only one working headlight, she couldn’t see nearly as much as she would’ve wanted to.

Suddenly, a short distance ahead, a man stumbled out of the woods and onto the road. Eve screamed and braked again, her nerves frayed, as the car came to a stop only a few metres from the man.

He stood in the light of her one working headlight. He had long brown hair and a red flannel shirt. He was holding his hands up towards the car. Eve recognized him as the camper from the campground.

They weren’t far away from Westfield Farm, it was true, but they were still far enough that he shouldn’t have been out in these woods. He’d have had to run through the forest from the campground, in the dark, to intersect Eve on the highway. She thought he was incredibly lucky to have not been hit by her car. To have even found her car at all. Then she took a closer look and decided he might not have been so lucky after all.

The man, and she realized then that she’d never even asked his name, was bleeding from a wound on his temple and a gash on his arm. Eve could see patches of blood blooming across the knee of one of his pant legs. He looked awfully scuffed up, like he’d taken a bad fall in the woods in the dark, she supposed. And then she remembered the wolves.

Outside, the man was stumbling towards the car. Eve wanted to get out and help him, to take his arm and lead him towards the passenger side door, but again she felt immobilized by fear. As he hobbled closer he reached out and set his hand against the hood of the car.

“Hey-” his voice came out weak and hoarse, but he gathered his strength and tried again. “Hey!”

Eve flinched. She knew he could see her looking at him.

“It’s you, from the campground. Thank God. Please, please let me in. I had to run- I can’t- I”

Stories of axe murderers and hitchhikers flew around in her mind. Eve hesitated, her hand hovering along the handle of the door. The hesitation was enough.

Faster than she could process, a shape launched from the woods and crashed into the man. In the brief instant that she’d seen it, Eve registered black; something black, and large, and monstrous. She screamed, and the man screamed, and blood spattered across the windshield as the beast let its momentum carry them both into the underbrush. Loud snarling met shrill screaming and Eve knew, in the back of her mind, that she was listening to the man die. Listening to him be killed as the sounds of tearing and scraping and breaking reached her ears through the window of the car.

Paralyzed by fear, Eve checked that the doors were locked, turned off the car, and did her best to huddle at the foot of her seat. Her heart pounded in her chest. She wondered if the monster could hear it from outside. It was deafening in her own ears, a thumping rhythm reminding her of the danger that she was in.

A few moments later, the screaming stopped, and so did the sound of tearing clothes and flesh. Eve tried to hold her breath but it ached to burst from her lungs. She was fighting back the urge to scream as terror seized her body, digging its icy fingers into her chest.

Silence followed the end of the brutal noises in the woods. It could have been twenty seconds or twenty minutes until Eve heard another sound: heavy footfalls and the crunch of leaves in the underbrush. It was approaching the car. Eve cowered and fought not to let out a sound, even if the thing already knew where she was. She cursed her earlier cowardice; she should’ve driven as fast as she could as soon as whatever it was had taken the man into the woods. Instead, she was stuck, cowering in the darkness of the car.

After the sound of its feet, it was the breathing she heard next. Heavy, panting breaths that she imagined were making large clouds in the moonlight. Eve brought her fingers to her lips and felt them shaking against her mouth. The beast came up alongside the car, pausing occasionally to sniff at the cold air. It stopped next to the driver side door. Eve knew she was visible to anything looking inside but so long as she looked down at the floor beneath her feet she could trick herself into believing she was invisible to all.

She waited and waited. She had almost convinced herself that the monster had left until she heard a grunt from outside, followed by a slicing noise and a hiss. Then, as quickly as it had burst from the forest, the beast retreated away from the car and into the woods.

The hissing continued. It took Eve a few moments to realize it was air being let out from her tire. Whatever had killed the man had slashed her front tire. The urge to scream had passed, but she suddenly felt as though she might burst into tears, might succumb to a hysterical fit of sobbing.

Did it mean to come back for her? Would it try harder to get at her, to pull her kicking and screaming into the night?

Eve stayed put where she was, huddled on the floor of the car. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to, her body betraying her with its fear. The image of the man’s final moments played on a loop behind her eyes whenever she closed them. She shook her head to dispel the image and had the presence of mind to reach for her phone in the cupholder. She unlocked it and her heart sank. No service. It was only 8 o'clock, but it may as well have been midnight. The night was dark but for the scattered moonlight that managed to break through the canopy.

She wasn’t sure if the Turners had a spare tire in the back. She wasn’t sure if she could change a tire in the dead of night with everything that had gone on around her. She felt hopeless and afraid as she hunkered down in her hiding spot. She didn’t cry, but she shivered, and the night carried on indifferently around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fic itself is only going to be 4-6 chapters but the theme of such chapters being exceedingly long can, should, must, and will continue


	2. got a curse i cannot lift

It may have been minutes or hours before Eve heard the sound of the car approaching. It was honking its horn, and with good reason: her own car was still parked in the centre of the road. With no way of getting back to Blackmoor on her own, she found it in herself to shake out of her fear-induced stupor and climb stiffly from the floor of the car. Then she unlocked her door and flung it out wide. She could hear the sound of the approaching car braking, and she turned to face the oncoming headlights, waving her arms wildly over her head as she did so, hoping the occupants would come to her aid.

The car stopped several metres behind her own. It was a blue SUV. It stayed running while its driver-side door opened and a woman stepped out. It was hard to make out any details with the bright headlights in her eyes, but Eve thought she looked concerned.

“Who’s there?” the woman called.

“My name is Eve, I- I’ve got a flat tire. Please, I’m just trying to get to Blackmoor.”

“Have you got a spare?”

Eve shook her head and called back, “No. Please, I just need a lift, it’s not far.”

She tried not to let her desperation show in her voice. The thought of spending the night in the Turners’ car was a terrifying one. She had no idea where the giant beast had gone, she had blood spattered on her windshield, and she was pretty sure the mangled remains of a man were still nearby in the woods. She needed to get somewhere safe before she could even begin to process the night’s events.

She watched as the woman leaned back into the car and spoke to someone inside. Through the windshield, Eve could see another woman sitting in the passenger seat and the shadow of a smaller figure in the back.

“... says she doesn’t have a spare...”

“... she looks awfully shaken up about something...”

Eve tried not to eavesdrop as the woman conferred with her companion. A few moments went by before they seemed to reach a decision.

“Alright,” the driver straightened up again and beckoned to Eve. “Come and sit yourself in the back with Oscar. We’ll get you to Blackmoor.”

Eve let out a heavy sigh of relief. It nearly turned to a sob. The woman was right, she _was_ shaken up.

She turned to make sure she had everything from the Turners’ car before realizing that she was about to leave it in the middle of a two-lane road. She turned back to her rescuers and gestured awkwardly at the car. “I’m just going to try to move it a bit.”

The driver nodded and stood at the door to wait. Eve was grateful. Although she felt reassured that these women really were going to help her, she was afraid that if the driver climbed back into the SUV, they would suddenly drive off into the night without her.

Eve made her way to the Turners’ car and climbed into the front seat. She closed her eyes before she could take a good look at the windshield, then she looked down at the key in her hand. Her eyes followed it as she placed it in the ignition and turned. She moved her gaze down to the stickshift and put the car into drive. Then, finally, she looked up.

She’d never seen a crime scene in person before. She’d seen recreations and dramatizations. She’d read books and watched shows and looked up grisly photos on the internet as a part of her research, but she’d never been confronted with the reality of it up close. Now, sitting in the Turners’ car, Eve felt at once both fascinated and nauseous. Blood was congealing on the windshield, slowly oozing and drying in the chilly night air. For a moment she thought about turning the wipers on and trying to wash it away, but she didn’t. It would be tampering with evidence, and there was something almost elegant in the way its crimson glint caught the moonlight.

She shook her head. It was exactly those kinds of abnormal thoughts that had driven Niko away from her in the first place. Not that she cared about him and his opinion of her now but the reminder was still there. She frowned to herself and slowly pressed the gas, easing the car onto the shoulder even as it seemed to resist forward motion. The front tire was now fully flat. Eve sighed. She supposed she would be footing the repair bill for the Turners when all of this was over.

Having moved the car far enough off the road so that it was no longer a collision risk, Eve parked, climbed out, and made her way to the idling vehicle. The driver stood waiting, and once Eve was past the glare of the headlights she could more clearly see the face of her saviour.

“My name’s Wendy.”

Wendy was young, probably in her early thirties, and she had long, wavy blonde hair that reminded Eve of the ‘70s. Or was it the ‘80s? Or was it just Farrah Fawcett that this woman reminded her off? Eve shook her head and tried to focus. Wendy was tall and slight and American, Eve could tell by her voice. She had kind eyes too, although the worry lines creasing on her forehead said the warm welcome might not continue for much longer if Eve didn’t hurry up and get into the car.

Eve gave her name again as she stepped past Wendy and climbed into the back of the SUV. “Thank you again, so much,” she said as she sat down and took stock of her surroundings.

In the front passenger seat was the woman she’d spotted earlier through the windshield. She had thick, brown hair that fell in tight curls to just above her shoulders. She turned and gave Eve a stern look. “I’m Elise. No funny business back there, okay Eve?”

Eve nodded, taken aback by the woman’s brashness but in no position to be defensive. Wendy climbed into the driver’s seat and, overhearing the tail-end of Elise’s greeting, leaned across the console and planted a kiss on the brunette’s cheek. “Be nice.”

Eve heard a snort of amusement and turned to look at the small boy occupying the seat next to her. “Don’t worry, miss Eve. Mum is just grumpy that we’re driving in the dark.”

Elise rolled her eyes and turned back to face the front. “That’s Oscar.”

Wendy put the car in drive and began to accelerate down the country road, leaving the Turners’ car behind. Eve felt tension unravel in her stomach, replaced by relief. Her spirits lifting, she smiled kindly at the boy next to her. He looked to be about eight or nine years old, with short brown hair and bright eyes. “Hi, Oscar. I’m Eve.”

“I know. Mum says you’ve got a flat tire and we’re going to take you back to your home.”

Eve nodded before adding, “Well, not my home, but my friend’s home. I’m not from Blackmoor, just visiting someone.”

As she spoke, Eve thought she saw Elise relax in the front seat. She remembered then what the man had said at the campground: ‘that town’s all kinds of weird’. Eve winced at the memory. She wasn’t sure where this family was from, or going, but judging by the body language of the two women in the front, they knew of Blackmoor’s less than savoury reputation. She felt again incredibly grateful that they had stopped and offered her a lift. She decided to say as much.

“Thank you again, really, I’m not sure what I would’ve done. Service is so bad out here and I couldn’t get anything on my phone and just-”

“It’s not a problem, Eve,” Elise replied, cutting her off. “We’re happy to help out. Blackmoor’s not far.”

Eve felt a bit indignant at being cut off so abruptly in the middle of her thanks, but again, she held off on her impulse to be defensive. She didn’t know these women at all. She would only know them for a short period of time, a blip, and then she would never see them again.

Something about that made her sad, although she doubted they would feel the same. But they’d unknowingly saved her from something far worse than a flat tire.

At the thought of the night’s earlier events, Eve turned to look out the window. The forest was clearing and they would soon be driving alongside meadows and farmers’ fields. As they left the trees behind, the night came alive with the full force of the moon. It shone brightly in the sky. Eve looked up at it and no longer felt the comfort it had given her before. It was beautiful, but detached, and she turned away a few moments later.

Just then, Oscar spoke up. “If you’re not from Blackmoor, where are you from?”

Eve turned and smiled at him again. “I’m from London. And where are you from?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Eve saw Elise turn to Wendy and give her a meaningful look. Eve knew she still had her American accent, but she didn’t think that was something to be suspicious about. Eve came to the conclusion that Elise was a very protective mother.

“We’re from Hampshire and we’re going to visit my grandparents in Milford,” Oscar told her, his face growing excited at the last part.

“That should be fun,” Eve replied warmly. “I’m glad you decided to visit your grandparents tonight because without you I would still be stuck on the highway.”

Oscar beamed in response to Eve’s words, mostly giddy about his upcoming visit but glad to have the praise of a stranger. He kicked his legs excitedly and turned to look out the window.

As they continued to travel, Eve felt her phone vibrate suddenly in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw that she had service again. Her screen lit up with missed notifications: a text from Kenny, an email from Niko with the subject line ‘Re: Dividing Assets’, and two missed calls from an unknown number that Eve had to assume had been the Turners. Before she could address any of them, though, Wendy’s voice caught her attention.

“So, what brought you from London to Blackmoor, Eve?”

Eve glanced up from her phone in time to see Wendy’s eyes in the rearview mirror before they returned to the road.

“Work,” she replied tiredly, sliding her phone back into her pocket.

“And what kind of work do you do?” Elise asked, not unkindly but brusquely, and Eve fought not to flinch.

She was grateful for their aid but she was beginning to feel a bit unwelcome in their car. She tried to shrug off the feeling as best she could and told herself not to take it personally. These women had picked up a complete stranger in the dark. She supposed they had a right to be a bit jumpy.

“I work for the government. I investigate things and report back to my boss and honestly do more paperwork than anything.” She tried to make it sound inconsequential and lighthearted but she watched as Elise stiffened suddenly. The woman made no comment, though, and Eve let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

The rest of the short car ride passed in a similar fashion. One of the other three might ask Eve a question and she would reply before asking one of her own, and they would reply, and then the conservation would peter out. Silence would return for a short while and then they would repeat the cycle. Eve didn’t mind it; the silences gave her time to think about what had happened to her that night, while the talking gave her time to forget it.

Eventually, they came to the first of Blackmoor’s stone houses. Eve saw then that the windows were all closed and shuttered, and any light in the houses bled through only in tiny cracks along the seams. Blackmoor had old-fashioned street lanterns to match its general state of antiquity but they were placed at odd intervals along the roadside. Eve supposed that, Blackmoor being as small as it was, it didn’t need very many, but as the SUV slowly drove along the main street of the town, it bothered Eve that the lanterns were so dimly light and far apart from each other. They would be of little use to someone walking around in the dark.

Which, Eve realized then, no one was doing. Blackmoor could’ve been a movie set after hours, its production lights gone out, its cast and crew departed. It was absolutely empty, with not a single person in sight.

It wasn’t as though there had been many people out during the day, of course, but Eve thought she’d at least seen a few. There had been someone entering their house as she’d been driving out of town. There’d been a barking dog and at least one person walking down the street, she was sure of it.

In the nighttime hour, Blackmoor was as good as deserted. She supposed it made sense. In a town so small, what would anyone have to do after dark? Especially in autumn, when the air grew so cold. And yet, it gave her an eerie sensation that she just couldn’t shake.

She let Wendy know which of the stone houses to drop her off at. The Turner Residence and Guestrooms was just as shuttered as any other building, although Eve could see quite a bit of light shining through the cracks. As the SUV pulled up slowly, Eve thanked her rescuers again and wished Oscar a very good visit with his grandparents.

Wendy moved to unbuckle her seatbelt but Elise reached across the console and put her hand on her partner’s wrist. “I’ll see her out. You stay with Oscar.”

Then, Elise unfastened her seatbelt and climbed out of the car. She shut the door and crossed around the front before standing between the SUV and the house and waiting for Eve. Eve glanced at Wendy. Wendy sighed.

“She’s protective, but she means well,” she offered. “Goodnight, Eve, and good luck with whatever work it is you have to do here.”

Eve nodded and bid Wendy a good night before unbuckling her own seatbelt and exiting the car. She walked towards Elise and did her best to smile warmly, but the cold air of the night pulled all the warmth right out of her.

Being outside again made her nervous. It brought back all the fear that she’d felt only a short while before. Her heart began beating rapidly in her chest and it took all of her self-control not to sprint past Elise to the Turners’ front door. Instead, she walked as calmly as she could manage and met Elise halfway.

“Elise, thank you again for-”

“I don’t know what kind of work you do, Eve. You were rather vague in your description. But if it’s your work that’s brought you to Blackmoor, I suggest you tell your boss you found nothing and you head back to the city as soon as you can.”

As she spoke, Elise glanced around the town, her eyes darting cautiously. Eve was surprised for a moment, but then she saw an opportunity to learn more. To glean more information for her investigation. Elise was a total stranger but Eve was sure she knew _something_ that could help her.

“Elise-” Eve moved forward and brought her voice down to a whisper. “What do you know about Blackmoor?”

Elise’s eyes returned to Eve and her gaze settled heavily. Eve felt the weight of it like a physical thing, holding her in place. “I don’t know anything except that Blackmoor is between Hampshire and Milford, and for fifteen years my family has avoided this town. I was a teenager when things started, and I didn’t pay much attention to it back then, but I’ve heard things-”

“-What kind of things?”

Elise smiled sadly and shook her head. “I can tell you’re too curious for your own good. Go back to London, Eve.” With that, she turned and began to make her way back to the car.

Eve stood there for a few moments, taken aback and mind reeling until she heard the car door shut and the sound of tires crunching on dirt. She turned and saw the taillights of the SUV as it made its way through the rest of the town and out of sight. Not wanting to be alone in the dark, Eve shook herself and stepped quickly to the Turners’ front door. She pulled out her key and unlocked it, feeling the heavy deadbolt shift to the side. She turned the handle and pushed.

Light poured through the doorway. However, her momentary elation at the opening of the door was cut short when it stopped abruptly a few inches later. A chain, the same she’d heard Hugo unlock earlier in the day, was stretched taut between the doorframe and the back of the door. Out in the open, she suddenly felt her panic begin to rise. She was so close, almost free from the terrible night she’d been having. Rationality fled and she brought her fist up to the door and started pounding.

“Hello?! It’s Eve, Eve Polastri. Please let me in!”

She immediately heard voices and movement from within the house, and a second later the face of an older man appeared at the door. “Ms. Polastri? Thank goodness. Hang on a moment and I’ll get this unlocked for you.”

Eve dropped her fist and took a step back as the man, presumably Mr. Turner, closed the door, unfastened the chain, and opened it again. Like the ending of a bad dream, Eve ran from the darkness and into the light as fast as she could. Barrelling into the Turners’ front lobby, she nearly knocked over Mrs. Turner as she ran to the staircase and leaned heavily on the bannister, resting her head on the old, wooden railing. She heard the front door shut behind her and heaved a sigh of relief.

“Sorry about the chain, Ms. Polastri. We always keep it fastened at night.” There was a brief awkward silence before the man continued, “I’m sorry, but do you mind telling us where you’ve been?”

It was Mr. Turner who was speaking to her. Eve looked up from the bannister and registered for the first time just how many people were in the room. The entire Turner family was there.

Mr. Turner was a tall, heavyset man with greying hair and a walrus moustache. He stood near the door while Mrs. Turner stood with her arms wrapped around herself a short distance away. She was shorter, around Eve’s height, and the same brown hair as Hugo, although hers was kept under control by a collection of pink curlers she was intending to wear to bed. Hugo was leaning against the wall behind the desk, his eyes downcast and staring at the floor. A little girl Eve assumed to be his aforementioned younger sister sat on the couch with a book in her lap, completely unperturbed by the events unfolding around her. She had two long braids that fell on either side of her chest and discerning eyes behind a pair of circular glasses. For some reason, she reminded Eve of Wednesday Addams. Eve thought she might be around 12 years old.

Looking around the room at the family, Eve felt palpable tension in the air. She opened her mouth to begin her explanation.

“Mr. Turner, I’m so sorry. I- I’m not sure where to begin, really-”

Mr. Turner held up a hand to stop her. “Please, Ms. Polastri, Hugo has already filled us in on a few details. He said you took the car to the Westfields’ to have a look at the campground. He said you were asking about the man who died there last month. I don’t make it my business to pry, but now you’ve come banging on our door after dark, well after dinner, without our car, in a town with a strict curfew-”

At the mention of a curfew, Eve frowned. Hugo certainly hadn’t mentioned that to her earlier. Maybe he’d forgotten. She remembered then his look of concern as he’d watched her drive away earlier that day. Maybe he’d hoped that she wouldn’t be gone long enough for it to matter.

“-and we care about our guests and we want to keep them safe. We are happy to see you returned despite the late hour-”

Eve glanced at a nearby clock. It was 9 pm. Hardly late by city standards but maybe ‘late’ in Blackmoor meant something different.

“-but we need to know what’s happened, and where you left our car so that we can make sure to call the right people and take the proper steps to retrieve it in the morning.”

Eve was still frowning as Mr. Turner finished his speech. “Mr. Turner, how long has Blackmoor had a curfew?”

Hugo looked up at her as she asked, and she half expected him to answer, but his sister beat him to it. “Ever since Lonnie Fisher died.”

Eve turned and looked at the young girl in surprise. She had hardly looked up from her book. She opened her mouth to say more, but her father cut her off abruptly. “That’s enough, Willow.”

Eve watched the small girl shrug and continue reading. Not taking her eyes off the child, Eve asked, “And when did Lonnie Fisher die?”

“About fourteen years ago,” Mr. Turner replied gruffly. “Now, please, Ms. Polastri, if we could focus on the issue at hand-”

“Of course, I’m sorry,” Eve offered. Her mind was spinning over the new information. Elise had said that her family had avoided Blackmoor for fifteen years. Blackmoor had instated a curfew fourteen years ago after the death of Lonnie Fisher. They could be coincidences and nothing more, and yet Eve’s gut told her they were connected. Still, she had precious little information to go on, and she doubted she could get more from the Turners that night. “Let me explain what happened...”

She spent the next several minutes going over the events of the evening. How she had taken the car to the campground in order to have a look at the area where her friend and coworker had apparently died a month earlier. She told the Turners that she had been sent to Blackmoor to tie up loose ends, as Bill’s death had been rather sudden and unexplained. She recounted her conversation with the campers, although she left out the disparaging comments that the man had made about Blackmoor’s residents.

She explained that the man had thought that it might have been wolves that had killed Bill, and after a brief phone call with a coworker, she’d begun her drive back to Blackmoor around 7:30. Shortly into the drive she’d hit a deer and gotten a flat tire, two awful instances of bad luck. To make matters worse, when she’d checked her phone she’d been dismayed to see that she had no service and so couldn’t call anyone to come to her rescue. She’d only gotten lucky when the blue SUV had stopped and offered her a lift back to town. By that time it was well after 8 o'clock.

She left out the part about the attack. It was too disturbing and bizarre, and being in the safety of the Turner Residence had her half-believing that it hadn’t really happened at all. That her overactive imagination had conjured it up and, in reality, it had simply been a massive wolf that had attacked that poor man and not some nightmarish beast. Of course, if it was just a wolf then she really _should_ bring it up, to let the Turners know that there was a man dead in the woods and a bloodthirsty wolf on the loose, but still, she held her tongue. She finished her account of the night’s events and waited for the Turners to respond.

Mr. Turner sighed heavily at the end of her story and, instead of addressing her, turned and pointed his finger at his son, “You shouldn’t have let her take the car out so late.”

“I know, Dad.”

“Do you? Or do you need to pay the Averfords a visit and ask them to remind you what happened to Alexander?”

Hugo paled and shook his head. “No, Dad.”

As Mr. Turner backed away from his son, Eve tried to affix the name he’d mentioned in her mind: Alexander Averford. Maybe she could ask Hugo about him later. She massaged at her temple. Her investigation into Bill’s death seemed to spiderwebbing out of her control, stretching wider than she had anticipated and reeling more people in. She needed to get her thoughts straight so she could plan her next move. She needed sleep.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Turner, but is there anything else you need of me or is it alright if I head to my room?”

The older man turned to look at her and nodded, his expression tired. He seemed at once both anxious and exhausted, and Eve wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Yes, that’s alright. We’ll sort out the car in the morning.”

At that moment, Mrs. Turner spoke up for the first time since Eve had arrived. “Would you like any dinner before bed, Ms. Polastri?”

Eve was taken aback by the offer. It was so incongruous with the tone of the prior discussion, and with the events of her entire evening. Eve did her best to smile graciously as she shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m not really all that hungry. I think I’d just like to get some sleep.”

Mrs. Turner nodded in understanding, although she said, “That’s a shame, we had a lovely lamb roast. Maybe tomorrow then,” before turning and leaving the room.

Eve was a bit stunned by the behaviour but didn’t have any further response. She gave the remaining Turners a final nod before she climbed the stairs with heavy footfalls to return to her room.

As she trudged up the stairs, she found herself staring at her feet, lost in thought. Then, as she reached the top of the stairs, a bit of movement caught her eye. Eve looked up as she reached the second floor and saw the door to Room 1 click shut suddenly. She narrowed her eyes.

She hadn’t heard any footsteps or seen any person entering the room, even in her periphery. It likely meant that whoever was in that room had been eavesdropping on her conversation with the Turners. She thought back to what had been said, and she didn’t think that anything of value could have been learned, but still, it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She briefly entertained the idea of knocking on the door, but she decided against it. She was dead on her feet and the world around her was beginning to take on a hazy quality generally reserved for the deepest of dreams.

She reached into her pocket, withdrew her key, and unlocked her door. She wandered in, shut the door, shrugged her jacket onto the floor, and collapsed onto the bed. She could’ve been asleep in mere seconds. She felt unconsciousness rising like a tide. And then, moments before sleep took her, she saw the man being swept into the forest by a giant, snarling shape. She saw his blood spatter across the windshield. She heard his dying screams.

Eve shuddered and hurriedly pulled herself from the bed. Residual fear and adrenaline began to seep into her, and she stepped quickly to the door, locking both deadbolts. Her hands shook as she did it. She was glad the locks were there, now, in the nighttime hours. She went over to the window and slid it open in so she could reach outside and pull the shutters across it. It was the only window in the house that didn't appear to be shuttered. As Eve reached outside, she felt the cool night air lick against her arms, making their hairs stand on edge. She glanced up at the full moon one last time before she pulled back inside and slid the window shut again.

There were things she needed to think about. The curfew and Lonnie Fisher and a beast running wild in the moonlight. And yet, the thoughts evaded her. What had been but a few hours was beginning to feel like the longest night of her life. The evening felt stretched, and she’d been stretched along with it. Tired and unsteady on her feet, Eve returned to her small bed and collapsed once again. She didn’t even bother to change as sleep took her quickly.

* * *

Morning came to Eve slowly at first. As she opened her eyes, she was groggy with sleep and disoriented in the unfamiliar room. She was briefly confused as to why she was still wearing yesterday’s clothes. And then, like being hit by lightning, it all came back in a flash. She sat up in bed suddenly as memories of the previous night flooded her mind.

The bedroom was dark. Very little light could pierce the shuttered window, but some managed to slip through the cracks. It seemed bright out. Eve glanced at the clock next to the bed: 9:02 am. She’d slept in. She swore under her breath and began to pull herself out of the bed.

She got changed quickly, if stiffly, her body sore from a night of tension and fear. She threw on a pair of dark jeans and a mauve turtleneck before grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste and heading into the hall. Once she was outside her room, she could hear bustling coming from the main floor, the sounds of dishes clanging and food cooking and idle chatter between the Turner family. Eve made for the bathroom and finished getting ready for the day before she dropped her things back in her room and ventured downstairs.

Natural light poured into the house through the various windows. Their shutters had been opened and their curtains pulled aside. It would be a lovely autumn morning, almost nice enough to make her forget the horrible events of the night before.

She made her way to the kitchen where she saw Mrs. Turner alternating between frying eggs and washing dishes, her back to Eve. Eve didn’t want to interrupt but it felt rude to say nothing and so she cleared her throat and called out a soft greeting.

“Oh!” Mrs. Turner turned and smiled. “Good morning, Ms. Polastri. The others are in the dining room if you’d like to join them. I think they’re just finishing up, but there’s plenty of leftovers and I’ve got more eggs on the way for you.”

Eve smiled in response, her eyes taking in the woman across from her. She seemed in good spirits and her hair was immaculately curled. Eve thought Mrs. Turner might’ve stepped straight out of the 1960s, but she was beginning to reconcile the fact that all of Blackmoor seemed disjointed in time. Eve offered a quiet “thanks” before she turned and made her way to the dining room.

She had passed it the previous day without really paying attention. Its entryway intersected the hallway that led from the front of the house to the kitchen. Turning into the room, Eve saw a sparsely decorated dining area with a large wooden table in the middle. Mr. Turner and his two children were seated there, a veritable buffet of food between them.

Eve waved an awkward greeting before she sat at the table. Once the smell of food hit her nose, she found that she was incredibly hungry. She had turned down the offer of dinner the night before and now her stomach was reminding her of it. It rumbled loudly and impatiently as she began to fill her plate.

The Turners greeted her with hellos and good mornings and she returned them in kind. They seemed, like Mrs. Turner in the kitchen, to be in good moods despite the tension of the previous evening. As Eve lifted her fork to her mouth, Mr. Turner addressed the table casually, although Eve got the impression that it was his roundabout way of speaking to her.

“So I gave Fred Henderson a ring this morning and he’s going to give me a lift out to the Westfields’ to see about fixing the tire and getting the car back to town.”

Eve swallowed her food and nodded politely before remembering the dead man in the woods and the blood on the car. She opened her mouth to speak and ended up choking on her eggs instead. As she coughed and hacked up a storm, the Turners watched her with concerned expressions.

When she finally had her body under control, she managed to say, “I should probably mention that there was some blood, er, from the deer.”

Mr. Turner nodded as though he’d expected as much. “The car needs a good cleaning anyhow.”

Willow leaned over the table eagerly. “How much blood?” she asked, barely-concealed excitement shining in her eyes.

“Willow, don’t be such a freak,” Hugo muttered, but Eve waved him off.

“It’s alright. There was a bit of blood,” she told the girl, leaning forward to match her enthusiasm. “You don’t think that’s gross?”

Willow shook her head. “Sounds rather fascinating to me, actually.”

Eve smiled. “Me too,” she mock-whispered, holding up one hand against her cheek to add to the effect. Mr. Turner frowned at Eve but didn’t object, and they all went back to their eating.

It occurred to Eve then that she’d seen no sign of their other guest. “Ah, sorry to be a bit nosy,” she started as soon as she’d finished her mouthful of food, “but I haven’t seen the guest from Room 1 around much at all? Have they already come down for breakfast?”

Mr. Turner grunted and shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “Name’s Nadia. She’s an odd one. Spends nearly every day holed up in that room, only comes out at mealtimes, best I can tell.”

“That’s not true,” Willow piped up. “I saw her leave one day. Asked her where she was going, she said she had to visit a friend at the manor.”

“A friend at the manor?” Mr. Turner repeated uncertainly. “Well, that seems highly unlikely. Only ones up there are Ms. Astankova and her... butler, I suppose.”

Eve was about to ask more, to get more information about Nadia and the manor and its mysterious inhabitants, when there came a knock at the front door. Mr. Turner pushed back from the table and muttered, “Must be Fred, although he’s a bit early.”

Mr. Turner exited the dining room and made his way to the lobby, leaving Eve with Hugo and Willow at the table. She was about to ask Willow more questions about Nadia when she began to hear a voice drifting in from the front door.

“...yes, that’s right, a private investigator...”

“... a recent death in the area...”

“...yes, I’ve been told about the campground, thank you...”

Eve thought she could see Hugo and Willow listening as well, and as the three of them eavesdropped, Eve caught her name being mentioned and felt her hackles rise.

“...yes, well, I’m actually here to speak to one of your guests. An ‘Eve Polastri’, I believe? I need to ask her some questions about her whereabouts last night.”

Listening to the voice, Eve clenched her fist at the table. It was no one she recognized, but just the presence of a private eye was the last thing she needed. She was a government employee, and he would no doubt manage to be a pain in her ass in some way. She pushed back from the table and huffed in annoyance. She may as well get the introductions over with.

“Hello,” she called out as she rounded the corner and made for the open front door. “I think I heard my name from in there-” she gestured over her shoulder toward the dining room. “-Can I help you?”

As she approached the open door and came to a stop next to Mr. Turner, Eve took a long look at the man who stood outside on the doorstep. Tall with wide shoulders and a receding, red hairline, he looked nothing like the private investigators so often depicted in movies. By comparison, this man seemed rather unassuming, especially in his long beige coat and black pointed shoes, neither of which seemed very well-made. But then, the man looked at Eve and smiled, and every inch of her skin itched to wipe his gaze off of her body. His mouth was twisted into a sneer and Eve saw true malice in his cold, blue eyes. He extended a hand to her.

“Ms. Polastri, I assume? I’m Inspector Raymond.”

Eve ignored his offered handshake. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought I overheard that you were a private investigator?”

The man’s lips curled knowingly as he dropped his hand, and his eyes flashed with amusement. “Forgive me. I used to be an inspector before I retired. Still forget to drop the title sometimes. You’re correct, I am a PI these days.”

“Ah, well, I’m sure it’s an easy mistake to make,” she offered coldly. She could not find it within herself to show this man even an ounce of warmth. Next to her, Mr. Turner shuffled awkwardly. “Anyway, you needed something?”

The investigator- Raymond- nodded his head and gestured behind them, indoors. “Perhaps I could come in, and we could discuss this over some morning tea?”

Eve wished it was in her power to deny the man entry. Unfortunately, Mr. Turner nodded uneasily and stepped back to let him in. Eve frowned and retreated as well, and Raymond entered the house.

“Charming place,” he commented as he looked around idly. Then, getting right to business, he levelled a sharp look at Eve. “So, Ms. Polastri, do you mind telling me where you were last night?”

“I’m sorry, but what exactly is this about?” Eve countered impatiently.

Raymond smiled his wicked smile. He clasped his hands together and held them at his waist as though preparing to give a long speech. “Well, you see, I was recently called in by private contacts to investigate the town of Blackmoor and its long history of suspicious deaths-”

Eve tried her best not to flinch. It sounded nearly identical to the task that had been set first to Bill, and now her. Well, not exactly set to her, but she was finding it hard to separate the investigation of Bill’s death from Bill’s own investigation. Meanwhile, Raymond continued speaking.

“-I was delayed in reaching town and, as such, only arrived this morning. But imagine my surprise when I heard that just last night there had been another death in the area. Nearby to the previous death, which had apparently occurred at the Westfield Farm Campground. Naturally, I set out to the campground as soon as I could, and arrived there in time to see police and medical personnel on the scene-”

“You must have arrived in Blackmoor very early this morning,” Eve interjected.

“Oh yes,” Raymond replied with false sweetness. “I arrived just after dawn. As I was saying, I got to the campground and showed my identification to the officers, who were rather tight-lipped about everything despite my previous experience as one of their own-”

At the mention of Raymond’s background, Eve rolled her eyes. She was unsurprised to learn he had once been an officer. She had the mental image of him eating a donut in an ill-fitting uniform.

“-However, I was able to question one of the nearby witnesses. She was seated on the back of an ambulance, being treated for minor injuries, although she was quite unstable, emotionally. She seemed to be fluctuating between an eerie calmness, which I assumed to be shock, and hysterical fits of panic and crying-”

“For the love of god, Raymond, could you just get to the point?” Eve huffed angrily. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Turner glance at her in surprise. She ignored him and kept her attention focused on the smug man in front of her.

“I do apologize if I’m being long-winded. Let’s just say that I questioned this woman about what had happened, and she all too readily told me that there had been some kind of attack at the campground overnight. Tents destroyed, tires slashed, and several persons injured, missing, or found dead. To put it bluntly, it had been a bit of a massacre.”

Eve felt the weight of her stomach like a stone dropped into her body, aching to pull her down and into the floor. She kept her facial expression under control but inside she was reeling. She tried to keep her voice as steady as possible as she asked, “And what, exactly, does this have to do with me?”

“Well, you see, Eve-”

Eve flinched as he said her name. She would’ve asked him to call her Ms. Polastri, only she had the feeling it wouldn’t matter. Her name passing over this man’s lips would make her skin crawl, regardless.

“-The woman I spoke to gave a detailed description of someone who had _just_ visited the campground only an hour or two before the attack. She said this person, an Asian woman of short to average height with long, dark, curly hair, had asked questions about the previous death in the area. She didn’t think that you were necessarily a dangerous person, of course, but she did have the same question that I do, which is this: how is it that you came to be at that campground, asking those kinds of questions, mere hours before an attack that you were then, rather astoundingly, not present for by virtue of, apparently, sheer dumb luck?”

Silence followed. Raymond stared intently at Eve. Eve, for her part, was struggling to keep calm. Raymond’s news about the attack on the campground had come as a shock. People who she’d seen hanging around their campfires the evening before were now wounded or dead. It made her feel sick to her stomach. She thought she might throw up on the Turners’ rug.

While she wrestled with the revelations, Mr. Turner took the opportunity to speak on her behalf. “Ms. Polastri was at the campground last night, just as you said, but she returned to our house around 9 o'clock and was here the rest of the evening.”

Eve felt a brief flash of gratitude towards the man. Not only did his words serve to defend her against the suspicions of the investigator, but they also gave her the chance to gather herself for her own response. Raymond didn’t acknowledge Mr. Turner and kept his eyes fixed squarely on Eve.

“It’s true,” Eve began. “I took Mr. Turner’s car and went to the campground yesterday, and I did ask questions about the death. It was my friend and coworker who’d been killed, and we’ve had so little information about his death that I wanted to see if I could uncover more.”

“And this is a hobby of yours, is it? Poking your nose into ongoing investigations?”

Eve snorted. “Sounds more like your hobby than mine. I’m a government employee. It’s my job.”

Raymond narrowed his eyes at her. “And which department of the government is it that you work for?”

“I don’t believe I have to answer that.”

“No? Not really a good look is it, though, to avoid my questions.”

“I’m sorry-” Eve fought not to raise her voice. “Am _I_ under investigation here? To the best of my knowledge, there’s no fault in anything I’ve done. And here’s a question for you: how did you know my name before you even met me?”

“Please, Ms. Polastri, I am merely trying to piece together my own investigation, in which you are now a person of interest. As for your name, I knocked on a few doors this morning to inquire about the strange happenings in town, and was told by several neighbours that they heard a woman banging on the door of the Turner residence late last night, begging to be let in.”

“Is 9 o'clock really considered that late?” Eve grumbled.

Raymond shook his head and appeared to accept that he was going to get nowhere with Eve. He looked to Mr. Turner and gave his best apologetic smile, “Anyhow, I can see that’s all I’m going to get for now. I’m sorry for interrupting your breakfast.”

With that, he turned and took two steps towards the door. Then, as though remembering something suddenly, he turned back to Eve, his finger in the air as if trying to place an errant thought.

“I almost forgot. Last question Ms. Polastri: do you know a man by the name of Sean McNeil?”

Eve frowned. “No, I’ve never heard that name in my life.”

“Ah. Well, you see, it’s just that his body was found in the woods in the early hours of the morning. Quite bloodied, apparently the victim of a very violent attack. Quite close to the highway too. In fact, right off the highway, next to an abandoned sedan registered to an ‘Arthur Turner’, which I can only assume to be you, sir-” he gestured at Mr. Turner before looking back to Eve, “-and you’ve just told me that it was you who was driving this car last night. How is it that the car you drove happened to be left at the exact place where Sean McNeil was killed?”

Eve felt her blood run cold. This was the moment she’d been dreading, a line of questioning which related directly to the attack. She’d never been a very accomplished liar, and she didn’t trust herself to try now, not as Raymond had backed her into a neat little corner. And yet, she refused to tell this man anything about the beast she’d seen in the woods. It wasn’t his knowledge to have. She was the one who had seen it, she was the one investigating Bill. This was her mystery to unravel, and she would defend it tooth and nail.

Her sudden defensiveness of her case and her hostility towards Raymond caught her off guard, but it fueled her as she quickly tried to figure out how to answer him. She didn’t want to give out unnecessary information; that was how he’d trapped her in the first place. Instead, she asked, “You saw the car, then?”

“Oh, yes. Broken headlight and a flat tire. What exactly happened to you on the road last night?”

_No blood._ Eve tried not to let her confusion show. Raymond had made no mention of the blood on the windshield. Was he trying to trick her into giving it away? Or had he really not seen it? Eve frowned.

“I hit a deer as I was driving.”

“Ah, well that would explain the bit of blood around the headlight then, I suppose,” Raymond replied. “And the flat tire?”

Eve shrugged, her voice laced with frustration. “Well, it was nighttime, Raymond. I’m not sure _how_ it happened, only that did happen.”

“Hm. And you didn’t feel like changing the tire? Surely Mr. Turner keeps a spare in the back.”

Mr. Turner spoke up uneasily. “I do, yes.”

Eve swallowed as she made a split-second decision. It would be a blow to her pride, but hopefully worth it in the long run.. She needed Raymond out of the house, out of her way. She needed to plan her next steps. She let out a long exhale and prepared to lie. It was the simplest lie she could muster and, she hoped, the least dangerous one to tell. “I don’t know how to change a tire.”

She resisted the urge to squirm as Raymond’s lips curled into a condescending smile. “Ah. Well, there’s no shame in that, Eve,” he told her in a tone that suggested completely the opposite. Eve ground her teeth but let it slide. Raymond inclined his head and turned to go.

“That’ll be all for now then. Certainly some back luck you’ve encountered here, Eve, and you’ve only been here, what, less than a day? I think I’ll be keeping my eye on you, if you don’t mind. It’s not _you_ that I’m interested in, you understand, but all these strange coincidences you seem to bring about.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he turned, opened the front door, and stepped out into the autumn air. Eve and Arthur Turner stood silent for a moment before Mr. Turner shook his head to himself and moved to shut the door.

“Bit full of himself, that one,” he muttered before turning to address Eve. “I’m awfully sorry you’ve been pulled into this mess. People say Blackmoor’s cursed and now you might be seeing why. Death seems to gravitate to our neck of the woods.”

With that, he began to head down the hallway. As he passed Eve, he put a large hand on her shoulder gently. “Don’t beat yourself up too much about the car. What’s done is done. I’ll head out later today to pick it up and it’ll all be settled.”

Eve nodded at his words, only half-listening. As soon as he passed her by, she returned to the dining room, took her dirty plate to the kitchen, and excused herself. She climbed the stairs and entered her room. She took a moment to open the shutters on her window to let in some natural light before she sat on the edge of her bed and sighed heavily.

She hardly had a moment to think about what she would do next when there came a timid knock at her door. She rose from the bed and answered it. Willow Turner stood in the hallway.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Ms. Polastri, but I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?”

Eve raised an eyebrow and Willow shook her head, adding, “Don’t worry. I’m nothing like that awful man.”

Eve’s lips curled into a smile and she stepped aside in the doorway. “Come on in.”

Willow nodded in polite thanks before she padded into Eve’s room. She began excitedly asking questions before Eve had even shut the door.

“Is it true you’re looking for a dead man?”

“Do you look at dead people all the time?”

“What’s the most awful thing you’ve ever seen?”

Eve turned from the door and ran her hands through her hair. “Are you sure it’s okay for you to be asking me this? Won’t your parents dislike it?”

“Who cares what they think,” Willow replied, eyes excited and eager. “Besides, death happens all the time in Blackmoor, even if most people try to pretend that it doesn’t. Sometimes I wished they’d all stop avoiding it and talk about it instead. But no-” the young girl threw up her arms, “-instead we have a curfew and superstitions and shuttered windows, and everyone blames the manor, or rather, the people in the manor, and-”

Eve cut her off. “What did you say?”

Willow blinked and cocked her head. “Everyone blames the manor and the people who live there.”

“Why do they blame the manor- the people in the manor, I mean?”

“Oh,” Willow shrugged. “Because all the weird stuff only happened after those people moved in.”

“The young woman and the older man?”

“Mhm. But it’s only because no one ever sees them. They don’t visit the town much. I suppose there’s no reason to but I do wish they would sometimes, only because Ms. Astankova has always been wearing the loveliest outfits when she’s passed through.”

Eve let out a slow breath. “When did Ms. Astankova and her companion move to town?”

Willow paused to think for a moment. “Maybe fifteen or sixteen years ago? I wasn’t around yet so I’m not exactly sur- hey! Where are you going?”

Eve was moving past Willow and grabbing her jacket off the floor. She quickly dropped her phone, wallet, and keys into its pockets before shrugging it on. “I’m sorry Willow, can I answer your questions later? There’s something I have to do.”

Willow frowned, disappointed. “I suppose so. But what is it that you’re going to do?”

Eve crouched in front of Willow and smiled kindly at her. “Well, you see, I _am_ looking for a dead man. But that grouchy inspector from earlier is going to try to get in my way at the campground, so I’m going to look someplace he won’t expect me to be. Someplace I might be able to get information that he doesn’t have yet.” She whispered to the young girl as though she was speaking to a conspirator. She saw Willow’s eyes grow wide with excitement once again. “Would you like to help me?”

Willow nodded eagerly. “What do you need, Ms. Polastri?”

Eve looked around the room, pretending to search for eavesdroppers. Satisfied when she found none, she leaned forward and whispered, “I don’t suppose you could tell me the quickest way to get to the manor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for the love and support on ch 1, i wasn't sure if this au was gonna fly so im real happy to see that so many of y'all are enjoying it so far


	3. you're a hideous thing inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up in advance, this chapter got super lengthy. i didn't want to split it in two because of reasons but i think i can guarantee that the others will not be this insanely long.

Willow’s directions to Blackmoor Manor were surprisingly simple. Eve was to follow the main road south towards the woods. The manor was a short way out of town, nestled into the forested hillside. Eve was to walk until the main road turned left and a smaller dirt road led off to the right. The dirt road would take her up the hill and through the wood and, when the trees cleared, Eve would find the manor’s grounds. The instructions were simple enough, Eve was sure not to forget them. Willow thought it might take her a little over half an hour to walk there. Eve was alright with that.

Now that she had settled on a course of action, Eve felt invigorated. Raymond’s intrusion into her breakfast had left her in a sour mood but the quick aid provided by Willow had completely turned her day around. She was out of the Turner Residence and onto the main street of Blackmoor in less than ten minutes, and she began to stride purposefully as she made her way south and out of town, the sun shining benevolently above her.

It never ceased to amaze her how autumn days could be so different from autumn nights. As she walked along the side of the highway towards the approaching woods, the warmth of the sun began to heat her through her jacket. The sky was nearly cloudless and shining brilliantly blue. Birds sang in the trees in the distance. Eve found herself smiling. A day like this in autumn could coax a person into forgetting about the chill that came by night. The sudden thought of night had her pulling her jacket a bit tighter around herself, despite the warm air of late morning.

It only occurred to her partway through her walk that she was going to arrive unannounced. She had been so focused on her forward motion, on unravelling the mystery of Blackmoor, that she’d hardly bothered to think about propriety. She shook her head to herself. Investigators didn’t need manners, Raymond had shown her that. She didn’t feel the need to emulate him, exactly, but his oafish behaviour earlier had served to make her more comfortable with her own zealous approach. She would march up to Blackmoor Manor and bang on its front door and demand to speak with this Astankova woman. And then she would finally get some answers.

She refused to entertain the possibility of _not_ getting answers. Even Willow had said that, while everyone in Blackmoor blamed the people in the manor, no one had any real proof of wrongdoing. Eve willfully ignored that minor detail. She had her path forward and she intended to follow it. For Bill’s sake, and the sake of her incessantly nagging curiosity.

Because she _was_ curious. The curiosity had been growing like a weed in her mind ever since she had visited the campground. _Why had Bill visited the campground?_ She had a penchant for mysteries and this one was taking root, weaving its way through her brain, ensnaring her. She knew that, from a distance, Blackmoor’s story was a tangled mess, but if she followed one strand, just one strand at a time, she could unravel the enigma entirely.

She let those thoughts occupy her mind as she made her way to the manor. At the dirt road, she turned right and began the steady climb up the hill. Willow had promised that the hill was neither steep nor large and for that Eve was grateful. She had no desire to arrive at her destination a huffing, sweaty mess.

Trees now fully enveloped the area around her. Like she had the day before, Eve felt comforted by their presence. They were mostly narrow aspens punctuated by the occasional stout maple. Leaves littered the forest floor and the dirt roadway, although many still clung to their branches as well. The canopy was emblazoned with the fire of autumn, and the blue sky above it made the colours shine all the brighter. Eve felt sheltered, at ease in the light of the morning. She knew that the forest would be a different beast altogether by night, but that made it no less of a beauty in the daylight.

Just as Willow had promised, the trees did eventually clear. It was abrupt and unnatural, like the sudden appearance of a wall. Or rather, the sudden disappearance. Eve was walking through a forest and then she wasn’t. When the trees came to a halt, so did she. She stood on the edge of a massive clearing. Ahead of her waited the manor.

The manor grounds were large; spacious and well-kept. The lawn that spread out in front of Eve still clung to the vibrance of summer, although the occasional spot of yellow grass marred its near-perfection. It persisted throughout the clearing, interrupted only by the dirt road and several large oak trees, and, of course, the manor itself, which hugged the treeline opposite. It stood in imposing solitude. Eve felt apprehension knot in her throat.

Even from a distance, she could tell the manor was grand. Grand and, like the rest of Blackmoor, pulled from a different time. Its walls were grey stone and its roof looked to be tiled brown. Windows decorated the length of it, and while they would allow considerable light into the manor, from Eve’s perspective outdoors they shone black as night. The manor was a long building, it’s front entryway framed by, presumably, East and West wings. It stood two storeys tall but its steep, slanted roofs and long chimney stacks served to make it feel even taller. It was a towering mansion, and, even from across the clearing, Eve felt vulnerable and exposed in its presence.

It took her a moment or two but eventually she willed her feet forwards once more. She tried to shake the ominous feeling that had settled across her shoulders. This was just a building, just a house, just a home to unusual people. The sun was still shining, the birds were still chirping. A manor was nothing but wood and stone.

_But why_ _do_ e _s it_ _have to be so_ _creepy?_

She shook her head to dispel the thought. She had made it to the grounds and she would not turn back now. However, confronted with the sight of her destination, it occurred to Eve that perhaps she shouldn’t have been quite so hasty to get there. The smarter decision, she admitted to herself, would have been to call Kenny first, to get some background information about the property before waltzing right in. Instead, she knew nothing about Blackmoor Manor. Its obscurity only added to her unease.

Even walking at a quickened pace, it took her several minutes to cross the grounds. As she approached, more details of the building became clear and she found that at least some of her tension unravelled. She simply kept reminding herself that it was a house, nothing more. Her true focus needed to be on the people inside of it.

Finally, she found herself at the doorstep. Two large, wooden doors inset with intricate patterns marked the entrance and, in what she felt was true manorial fashion, a large brass knocker hung in the centre of each door. Before raising her hand to use one, Eve took a closer look. The brass ring she meant to grab hung in the mouth of an ornately sculpted wolf. It was snarling. Eve suppressed a shiver before she grabbed the ring and knocked.

As the metal thumped against the wood of the door, she imagined it thundering within the walls of the manor. Loud in the entryway but fading to a resonant echo as it travelled the halls, waiting to be heard. Somewhere in the depths of the manor, amongst its wings and its rooms, the last fading toll would reach the ears of whoever was home, and they would rise from their seat and make their way slowly to the door, with all the grace that Blackmoor Manor demanded, and-

The door opened before Eve could conclude her elaborate daydream. She would’ve chastised herself for being so absent-minded except that her attention was immediately possessed by the woman standing in front of her.

She was a young woman, with pale skin and blonde hair and eyes that seemed a bit too cunning when paired with her disarming smile. Eve found that she liked her instantly, but wouldn’t go so far as to trust her. Not with the way her eyes seem to trace over Eve as though she were appraising something for sale. She was wearing an ostentatious pink and white dress that Eve might’ve called a ballgown, although the entirety of its wide shape was lost behind the door.

It registered with her then just how young the woman was. Probably in her mid-twenties. When Ms. Astankova of the manor had been referred to as young, Eve had still imagined someone a bit older than the woman who stood before her. Her mind began to fixate on the detail of her age. Fifteen years ago this woman would have been little more than a girl. It threw the timeline of events into a lurch. Eve hadn’t anticipated Blackmoor’s curse to have been wrought by a child. Perhaps she was a visiting relative and not the fabled Ms. Astankova? Perhaps the man, the older companion, was the one to blame for the town’s troubles?

Eve realized then that she was already looking to pin the blame on the manor’s residents. She did chastise herself then. As Willow had said, they hadn’t technically done anything wrong. They were merely the targets of the town’s superstition, and nearly the target of Eve’s too. She had to be careful not to let her prejudice get the better of her. And so, her initial once-over of the woman complete, Eve put on her best smile and introduced herself.

“Hello, my name is Eve Polastri-” she paused for a moment and looked at the snarling wolf’s head before continuing, “-and I’ve come to visit your manor.”

“Eve Polastri.” The young woman rolled the name across her tongue, smiling all the while. Her voice was light and airy and touched with an accent that Eve couldn’t yet place. “Come to visit the manor, you say? Well, please, come in. It is so rare that we get guests, my uncle and I.”

Eve blinked as the woman reached forward and grabbed her hand, pulling her through the doorway and into the front hall. Before she could think to speak, the door closed behind her, and Eve suddenly found herself enveloped by Blackmoor Manor. As she was pulled along, it occurred to her that the woman’s accent was indeed English, although she spoke with an air of grandeur that Eve had only heard on TV, in shows often depicting manors such as the one she was in. Maybe the woman wanted to emulate the society in which it had been built.

She was pulled only a few feet into the foyer before the woman dropped her hand. “You're not here to visit my uncle, are you?”

“Oh, uh-” the question had caught Eve off guard. “No. Just a, uh, just a tour would be wonderful.”

The woman smiled and nodded and began to turn away from Eve, no doubt about to gesture grandly at the room around them. Before she could, Eve spoke up, “I’m sorry, before you begin, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Oh, silly me,” the woman rolled her eyes at herself good-naturedly. “It’s Julie.”

“Julie...,” Eve repeated slowly. It wasn’t what she’d expected and, again, she wondered if she was speaking to the right woman. She thought about asking for the lady of the house but decided against it. Julie clearly had her guard down, if she had a guard at all, and Eve figured she could take advantage of the woman’s bubbly personality and get some information out of her before she revealed her true reason for being there. “Well, lead the way then.”

“Splendid,” Julie smiled warmly before turning to take in the room around them. As she did, she began speaking, and Eve took in her surroundings for the first time since entering.

“Blackmoor Manor was originally built in 1579 but was later reconstructed in the late 1800s to prevent it from falling into complete disrepair. This room is the Main Hall...”

The interior of the manor was dimly lit, decorated in dark wood and stone that had Eve’s eyes straining in the low light. An ornate chandelier hung above them. Eve was relieved to see that it was lit with small electric lights rather than candles. There was so only much antiquity she could handle.

The main hall branched off into the two wings of the manor, one on either side of the room. On the ground floor, this was as simple as two large doorways placed opposite to each other. In order to reach the wings on the second floor, however, one had to climb the ornate imperial staircase that occupied a large space at the back of the hall. A wide, single staircase at first, it rose for seven or eight steps until it reached a small landing. The landing was home to a kind of altar on which Eve could see a burning candelabra and a small framed photo. She was too far away to make out the details of the picture, and instead, she turned her attention to the rest of the staircase. Beyond the landing it rose in two divided flights, each one rising to its respective wing. Looking at the grandeur of it all, Eve found it easy to imagine Victorian lords and ladies gliding gracefully down the steps, preparing to attend some lavish event.

Turning her gaze back to the main floor, Eve saw several paintings hanging on the walls. Images of still life and landscapes only, no portraits. Eve thought she should find it strange but in the grand scheme of her investigation she supposed it was a minute detail at best.

She continued wandering around the room as Julie kept talking about the history of the manor. She heard mentions of people and events and a fire in 1748. It was background noise to Eve, really. She hadn’t come for those kinds of details. As she walked, though, she felt that the other woman’s eyes never left her. It made her want to shiver. She thought of ghost stories and haunted houses and the eyes of painted portraits that would follow anyone who walked by.

Of course, Julie was no portrait. She was shockingly vibrant, in fact. Eve had half-expected to find a reclusive shut-in, someone who never left the manor except to commit the horrible murders that had led Eve to their door.

She shook her head. There was she drawing conclusions without evidence again.

Just as Julie was about to launch into the history of Blackmoor Manor’s third generation of lords, Eve cut her off. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but how long have _you_ lived here, if you don’t mind my asking? I am assuming that you live here...”

Julie smiled at Eve, her knowing eyes twinkling. It made Eve uneasy, somehow, to be caught in that gaze. “I do live here, yes. I’ve lived here for.... about fifteen years now?”

The inflection in Julie’s voice made it sound like a question, as though she were unsure, but Eve didn’t buy it. Having confirmation that Julie was one of the two people she was looking for, Eve became focused on her task once again.

“Fifteen years,” she commented, faking astonishment. “But you can’t be older than... oh, I don’t know, twenty-six or twenty-seven.”

Eve watched as Julie’s lips curled into a grin. Something about it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She felt that she had been right not to trust her, much as she found that she enjoyed the woman’s company. She carried herself with an attitude that was simply too cunning, as much as she tried to hide it behind her ridiculous accent and flamboyant dress.

“I’m twenty-five,” Julie told her, still smiling her disarming smile. “I arrived here when I was ten. My uncle brought me, and we’ve been here ever since.”

“Your uncle... is he around?”

Julie took a step towards Eve, moving closer to her from across the hall. “Why do you ask?” She pretended to pout. “I thought you weren’t here for him.”

Eve frowned. She thought Julie’s behaviour might be straying into the erratic. Maybe she was lacking social etiquette after living in the manor for so long. Eve decided to change her line of questioning. “You said he ‘brought you’? Where did he bring you from?”

Julie laughed suddenly, and Eve had to resist the urge to step back. “What an odd question. Are you concerned that he abducted me? I can assure you it’s nothing of the sort.”

“No, no, of course not,” Eve replied hurriedly. “Just wondering where you moved here from, is all. It’s an awfully big manor for two people on their own.”

“It is, isn’t it,” Julie replied, looking around the room as she stepped closer to Eve. “I do wish we’d get more visitors, but Blackmoor just isn’t big on tourism these days.”

Eve was about to interject, to ask the woman why she thought that might be, when Julie took another step towards her and reached for her hand. She brushed her fingers against Eve’s palm. Eve found herself frozen in place by the boldness of it. Julie smiled as she continued, “Still... we get visitors on occasion. My uncle, he’s not overly fond of them, but I, well...,” Eve felt Julie’s fingers tracing the veins in her wrist, “I do find this manor quite lonely sometimes.”

Had she not been completely stupefied, her jaw would’ve dropped in shock. The turn of their conversation was not at all what she’d expected and she only just managed to choke out a bewildered, “Are you... hitting on me?”

“Villanelle!”

Julie sprang back suddenly as though she’d been burned, and Eve never got an answer to her question. She turned to look at the source of the voice that had interrupted their strange moment so abruptly.

A man was descending the righthand stairs from the second floor. He was older, in his sixties, Eve guessed, and dressed in a monochromatic outfit that seemed to put him entirely at odds with Julie. He wore black pants and a black shirt under a slate grey jacket. His hair was white. He sported a full beard, although it couldn’t hide the displeasure on his lips. His mouth was pulled into a frown, and he called out again in his deep voice as he continued down the stairs. “What have I told you about welcoming guests?”

Eve was surprised to hear that, unlike Julie, this man’s accent was more foreign. Russian, she thought. And then she remembered the Turners’ guest in Room 1; Nadia, who had spoken to Eve briefly in a Russian accent as well.

“ _-s_ _he said she had to visit a friend at the manor.”_

Eve could hear Willow’s voice in her head as clear as day. It had only been that morning over breakfast that the young girl had said it. Eve felt a burst of energy at the memory, her strange encounter with Julie nearly forgotten as she caught the scent of her trail once more. This _had_ to mean something.

“You said I should be nice to them.”

Julie’s voice pulled her attention back to the present. The man clicked his tongue in reproach. “Be nice to them does not mean flirt with them.”

Eve watched as Julie rolled her eyes. Then, Eve’s eyes widened as Julie spoke again, her airy English accent gone. “You ruin all of my fun, Konstantin.”

Eve had the sensation of whiplash as she listened to the young woman’s voice. She spoke with a heavy Russian accent that curled with practiced ease over her English words. Eve was so caught up in the reveal of her true accent that it took her a moment to realize that far more than just that had been a ruse.

“I’m sorry-” she spoke up suddenly, cutting into the odd banter between the other two. “But have you been... acting, or something, with me this entire time?”

Julie grinned at her and opened her mouth to reply but the man, Konstantin, was faster. “I must apologize, Ms...”

“Polastri.”

“Ms. Polassi-”

“Polastri. ‘Eve’ is fine.”

“-I must apologize, _Eve_ , for my niece’s behaviour. She gets a bit lonely and, well-” rather than explain, he simply shrugged and continued, “I understand you are here to visit the manor?”

By this time, he had reached the base of the grand staircase, and he crossed the room to meet Eve where she had been standing with Julie. For her part, Julie stood a good five or six feet away, having not come any closer since Konstantin’s unexpected arrival.

Eve’s mind was reeling. She had a million questions to ask and they all wanted to pour out of her mouth at once. The first one to slip out wasn’t even the most important, but it fell out nonetheless. “I’m sorry, you called her... Villanelle?”

Konstantin nodded once, replying, “Yes, that is her name. Not this ‘Julie’ nonsense.” He shot a look at his niece before turning back to Eve. “Again, I am sorry for the confusion I’m sure this has caused. Perhaps we can return to the topic of your visit instead of trying to understand the mind of such an unworldly girl.”

Eve frowned at Konstantin’s blatant disrespect towards his niece. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Julie- no, Villanelle- scowl at her uncle and cross her arms in annoyance. It nearly pulled a smile from Eve’s lips, watching her pout for real this time. Eve turned her attention back to Konstantin and found him watching her shrewdly.

“My visit? Yes. I came to visit the manor, as I told your niece-”

“What for?” Konstantin interjected abruptly.

“To... to visit?” Eve stammered. She hadn’t been anticipating the man’s sudden... it wasn’t quite hostility, but something near to it. “Blackmoor Manor is very impressive, and I simply wanted-”

“What is it that you do for a living?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your work, Eve. I am wondering what it is that you do for work. It is the middle of the day in what I understand to be a regular workweek for most people. Instead of being in an office in the city, you are here, in Blackmoor, visiting a manor that has no relevance to you at all.”

Eve crossed her arms. “No relevance to me?” She knew she should keep her cool but she found her patience wearing thin after Villanelle’s antics and this man’s rudeness. “I'm here on government business. Are you aware that the town’s residents seem to think you’re to blame for the strange things that happen here?”

As soon as she said it, she regretted it. She was antagonizing the people she needed to question and it would only make them less likely to answer her honestly. But, the cat was out of the bag, and she watched as Konstantin’s expression darkened. Meanwhile, Villanelle seemed to perk up in interest.

“Yes, I am aware,” the man muttered gruffly. “It is superstition and nothing else.”

“Do you have any idea why they would target you for their superstitions?”

Konstantin shrugged. “Because we keep to ourselves. What is unfamiliar is untrustworthy, I suppose.”

“Hm. And have you heard the news about the recent deaths in the area? As recent as last night, in fact, at the Westfield Farm Campground.”

“No, I-”

Villanelle spoke up suddenly. “Oh, yes, I did hear about that. Horrible, really.”

Konstantin whipped his head to face his niece, his gaze icy. Eve watched with silent fascination before she continued. “You hadn’t heard, but your niece had? How strange.”

“I was only going to say-” Konstantin turned back to Eve, clearly grinding his teeth, “-that I had not heard that it had taken place at the campground. Of course I heard about last night. We are reclusive but we are not completely isolated from the town.”

“Oh? And how did you hear about it? I don’t think the news has even reached the public yet. To be honest, I only heard about it from the private investigator in town. The one looking into Blackmoor’s history of strange deaths. Murders, even.”

At the mention of an investigator, Konstantin’s brow furrowed in something approaching concern. Eve was the teensiest bit satisfied to have caught him off guard with the news of Raymond.

_Let him chew on that, the smug bastard,_ she thought to herself. Not that she really had any reason to be spiteful, but she found there was something about Konstantin that she immediately disliked. While Eve had found Villanelle charming even in her unusualness, she found that Konstantin had incited in her a deep sense of suspicion and doubt.

Trying to compose himself, Konstantin replied, “Well, I suppose it is about time that things were looked into. It has been strange in Blackmoor for a while.”

“About fifteen years, I heard,” Eve commented sweetly. “Your niece was just telling me that that was around when you both arrived here.”

The implication that they were somehow to blame for the strangeness hung heavy in the air, and Konstantin narrowed his eyes as he addressed it. “I cannot speak to Blackmoor’s history before we arrived since we were not present to witness it.”

“Of course, of course,” Eve waved her hand dismissively. “But you can say that things have been strange in the years that you _have_ been here?”

Movement caught the corner of Eve’s eye. Off to the side, she thought she could see Villanelle grinning widely. Konstantin cleared his throat. “Remind me again why you are here, Ms. Polastri?”

“To visit the manor, of course.” She gestured at the room around them.

“Of course. And the government business is-”

“Tell me,” Eve continued, cutting him off and aiming to press her offensive. “Have you had any other visitors recently? Your niece said that you don’t get many, but I met someone at my accommodation in town who said they’d been by to visit not long ago.”

Eve felt something in the air shift. Whereas before, Konstantin had been on the defensive and Villanelle had enjoyed watching him squirm, they were now both alert and intrigued with equal intensity. Eve felt whatever edge she’d had begun to slip away as, rather than her interrogating Konstantin, the two strangers levelled their questions on her.

“Who was this?” Konstantin asked abruptly at the same time that Villanelle asked, “When? When did you see her?”

Before Eve could even reply, Konstantin composed himself and added, “We have had no visitors, so your person must be mistaken.”

Villanelle began to interject, repeating again, “When was this?” but a sharp look from Konstantin cut her off.

Eve frowned, utterly confused by the change in their demeanours. “What do you mean they were mistaken? They told me they had come to visit.”

She was stretching the truth, it was true, but her statement had provoked such a reaction from the two that she felt compelled to follow the thread as far as it would go.

“We have had no visitors,” Konstantin replied bluntly. “None in recent weeks.”

“Oh, well, maybe it was more than a few weeks ago then, I’m not really-”

“Who told you this?” Villanelle asked, stepping forward and into Eve’s space again. “Was it a woman? A young woman?”

“I-”

“Enough,” Konstantin declared forcefully, extending his arm to block Villanelle from getting any closer to Eve. “It doesn’t matter who it was because they were _mistaken_.” He kept his gaze focused on Eve. “I’m sorry, Ms. Polastri, but we have had no visitors recently. Now, I think this charade is over. It is clear to me that you are not here to tour the manor, but rather to launch baseless accusations at my niece and I. I would ask you to leave. Now.”

Eve blinked in confusion, unprepared for how quickly her interrogation had been derailed. Not that she had gotten much information from her suspects in the first place, but now she was being unceremoniously kicked out of the manor whereas before they had at least been acting on a thin pretense of manners.

“Mr. Astankova, please-”

At the name, the expression of the older man darkened considerably, his eyebrows knotting and his lips pulling into a frown. Villanelle, on the other hand, smiled ever so slightly, her eyes shining with an excitement that reminded Eve of Willow Turner; a child excited by the prospect of a game.

“It’s Vasiliev. Now, get out.”

Focusing her gaze on Konstantin, Eve tried to regain control of the situation. “Alright, Mr. Vasiliev. Look, I’m trying to help you. I realize we didn’t get off on the right foot, but if you want the townsfolk to stop blaming you for their misfortune, wouldn’t it help your case to tell me what you might know? Prove your innocence and all?”

Konstantin raised his arm and pointed towards the front door. “I am not in a ‘proving’ mood, Ms. Polastri. Maybe another time. Now, if you’d please-”

“Alright, alright.” Eve began to back away. She couldn’t force the conversation any longer. She needed to regroup. She needed to not rush into things without any semblance of a plan.

Once she was a few steps away, she turned and crossed the main hall quickly, reaching for one of the large front doors and pulling it inwards. Just as she was about to leave, she heard Villanelle call out to her.

“If you see her, you tell her that I wish she _had_ visited. You’ll tell her that, won’t you Eve?”

Eve looked over her shoulder and saw Villanelle smiling at her wolfishly. Her eyes shone with an eagerness that was at once both unsettling and fascinating. Eve shivered with the feeling and turned away, vowing that she would walk out of the manor without looking back. She did, but she didn’t feel any better for it. In fact, she felt worse. She felt the pull of her curiosity tugging her back to the manor. She found herself wishing she’d turned to face Villanelle one last time.

* * *

The door shut with a resounding thud. Villanelle had to fight the urge to run to the nearest window and watch Eve Polastri walk away across the grounds. Instead, she stood by Konstantin and waited for him to speak. When he did not, she broke the silence herself.

“Well, that could have gone better.”

“What are you thinking, Villanelle?” He rounded on her angrily. “Are you trying to get caught? Do you want someone to find out what you are?”

Villanelle waved her hand. “Plenty of people have found out what I am. It has never been a problem before.”

Konstantin sighed in exasperation. “Only because you insist on killing them when they do. You know that is not exactly a sustainable method of secrecy. Eventually someone is going to find out, and you may not get the chance to kill them in time. You need to be more careful.”

“There is someone out there who _does_ already know, and I have been looking for her for weeks,” Villanelle countered, fighting not to raise her voice. “Now we know she is still here, in the town. I can find her.”

“No,” Konstantin replied. “No, it is too dangerous. Especially after what you pulled last night. And there is an investigator in town now? No. This is getting out of hand. You need to let her go.”

“ _Me?_ ” Villanelle scoffed loudly. “She is the one who followed me here. She is the one with the grudge. I am trying to make sure she doesn’t do anything with the _very sensitive_ information that she already has! You were the one who wanted me to go after her in the first place.”

Konstantin dragged his hand across his brow in consternation. “I am afraid that if you go after her now, with all that has happened, it will be one step too far,” he admitted. “We have done so well for so long. We have kept things quiet and, yes, the town gets suspicious at times, but that is only because they are looking for someone to take the blame. You have done well here, Villanelle. Do not throw it away because for someone who was hardly even a childhood friend.”

“It's not-”

“Whatever it was!” Konstantin interrupted, raising his voice again. “Just leave it. You need to let things blow over instead of making it worse. I know I said to look for her but I am taking it back. Let it go.”

Villanelle pouted in silence as Konstantin took a deep breath to calm himself. “As for Ms. Polastri, we should be careful not to give her any more reasons to suspect us.”

“It was you she seemed to suspect more than me, you know,” Villanelle goaded him.

“Only because you insisted on flirting with her instead of being careful, as I instructed.”

“Your instructions are very boring, Konstantin. Sometimes I would like to do things my way. Is that so bad?”

Konstantin gave her a look. “Yes,” he replied tiredly before turning and making his way to the kitchen. “I am going to make lunch. Would you like to join me?”

“In a minute,” Villanelle replied, already turning away from him and walking towards the imperial staircase.

Once she heard his footsteps retreat into the kitchen, she broke into a run and launched herself up the stairs. She clung to the bannister and used it to direct her momentum around the corner and back towards the front of the house. She turned left into the East wing and right into the first room she came to. It was a disused bedroom, a small one with sheets over all of its furniture. It was dusty, but that was hardly Villanelle’s main concern at the moment.

She crossed the room quickly and brought herself up to the large window that faced the grounds. She looked out eagerly, hopefully, aching to get a glance of the woman who had so suddenly interrupted her previously boring day. Through the glass, she saw the grounds, the green grass and the oak trees and the forest in the distance. And there, nearly three-quarters of the way to the treeline, was the woman. She walked purposefully, hurriedly. Villanelle watched, entranced.

“Eve Polastri,” she whispered, letting the name settle along her lips. She stood watching the woman’s shrinking figure until she was swallowed up by the trees.

* * *

Eve felt like an idiot. She paced around her small room at the Turner Residence, muttering under her breath and resisting the urge to bang her head against the wall.

She was good at following her instincts, it was how she’d come to work for Carolyn in the first place. But there were times, she had to admit, when her zeal got the better of her and she plunged headlong into her investigations without any plan. It had never really gotten her into trouble before. The investigation in Blackmoor seemed like it would be the first.

She had intended to go to the manor to get information from its occupants. Instead, she had been toyed with by one party while offending the other. She could still see Konstantin’s cold irritation. She could still feel Villanelle’s fingers dancing along her wrist.

She shook her head. She had approached the situation thinking that she was in control, and Villanelle had played her as soon as she’d opened the door. It was aggravating to remember, yet strangely thrilling too. It had been a long time since she’d felt a real challenge in her work; something to taunt her, something to chase.

She frowned. Not that Villanelle was the one to chase. Not yet. She needed to go about investigating them in a smarter way. She had wound up interrogating them with the same attitude that Raymond had used to question her. It was not a proven method. Again, she felt chagrined.

It took an embarrassingly long time before she had an idea. When she got it, she reached for her phone hurriedly and called Kenny.

“Come on, pick up pick up pick up-”

“Hello.”

“Kenny, hey!”

“Eve. How’s it going?”

It occurred to her then that she hadn’t even filled him in on the events of last night. “Oh, Kenny, it’s... well, it’s a bit crazy honestly. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.”

Eve sat herself down on the edge of her bed and began to recount everything that had happened since she’d spoken to him the night before. She told him about the attack in the woods, although she made sure to dance around the fact that she thought it was some sort of monster and not just an overgrown wolf. She told him about Raymond- well, she yelled about Raymond. It was cathartic. Then, she told him about her decision to go to Blackmoor Manor in the hopes of finding some information there.

“Blackmoor Manor? Hang on, I’ll pull it up.”

“Oh, I already went-”

“-Oh. Well. Says it was built in 157-”

“-79, I know.”

There was an awkward silence before Kenny cleared his throat and asked, “So, what did you need?”

“I want you to pull up anything you can find on a ‘Konstantin Vasiliev’.”

“Alright, hang on.”

Eve heard the clacking of a keyboard in the background. She chewed on the tip of her thumb while she waited. Then, she got another idea. “Oh, Kenny?”

“Yes?”

“Can you also find me anything about a Lonnie Fisher who died in Blackmoor fourteen years ago, and an Alexander Averford? I’m not actually sure if or when he died but... well, maybe there’s something.”

“You got it.”

Silence followed. Eve waited patiently, chewing her thumb again. Eventually, Kenny spoke up again. “So, first off, the only thing I could find about a death in Blackmoor fourteen years ago was an article in a regional paper that spoke about a young girl who was found dead in the woods. The family requested that they not use her name in the article. Says they ruled the cause of death to be exposure.”

“What?”

“Exposure,” Kenny repeated. “Says she got lost in the woods overnight.”

“Would that really kill her over the course of one night?”

“I’m not sure, Eve. I’m not a doctor.”

“Hm,” Eve hummed to herself. “Okay, what else?”

“I found nothing on an Alexander Averford. Could be the same thing, died and they kept his name private. Or maybe he’s just never been a newsworthy person. Honestly, Eve, there isn’t much on Blackmoor at all. It’s as if all the strange things that happen there occur in some sort of vacuum.”

Eve sighed into the phone. “Alright. Maybe the Turners can tell me more. And Konstantin?”

“Konstantin Vasiliev. Again, couldn’t find much on him either. Not a noteworthy guy. I did find out that he bought Blackmoor Manor though, fifteen years ago. With what money, you might be wondering? There’s a little Russian article here that says a Mr. Konstantin Vasiliev won the lottery and retired from his government job at the age of fifty. Talk about luck, am I right?”

“So he won the lottery and moved to the UK. He buys an old manor in the middle of nowhere and decides to move in with his niece... Oh, that reminds me! Anything on a Villanelle Astankova?”

“Villanelle?”

“Yep.”

“That doesn’t sound like a real name, Eve."

“I’m aware.”

“Alright.” Eve heard the keyboard clicking again. Then, “Nope, nothing. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, it was worth a shot,” Eve sighed. “So, Konstantin moves out here with his niece fifteen years ago. Lonnie Fisher dies one year later. Blackmoor instates a curfew. Something happens to Alexander Averford. Bill dies. The campground is attacked.”

“Honestly, Eve, it seems like you’re missing a big chunk of time in the middle.”

“I know, Kenny, I know.”

A moment of silence passed between them before Kenny cleared his throat. “Well... I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help, Eve. I’ve gotta get going, unfortunately, but keep me updated on what you find.”

“Sure, sure... Kenny?”

“Yeah?”

“What about looking up an Inspector Raymond? Or maybe checking with your mother, maybe she recognizes the name somehow?”

“Er, seems like a bit of a long shot, Eve.”

“I know, but I need more information. I may as well try anything,” she explained, sighing heavily. “Anyway, keep me posted.”

“Sure thing,” Kenny replied before ending the call.

Eve dropped her phone beside her and sighed again as she laid back onto the bed.

“I swear, Bill, I’m trying,” she murmured as she let her eyes trace patterns in the stucco ceiling above.

She spent the rest of the day gathering what information she could from the Turners. She learned the majority of it from Willow, who stuck to Eve like glue whenever she was out of her room. She asked Eve questions about blood and murders and killers, and while Eve had never really told her what she did for work, she didn’t feel the need to damper the girl’s enthusiasm. Willow seemed to imagine Eve as some high profile serial killer hunter. In reality, she was much lower in the chain of command than that, but Eve decided not to correct her.

In between Willow’s questions, Eve asked a few of her own. She began by asking about Lonnie Fisher. Willow explained that all she knew came from stories from her parents as she hadn’t been born yet when Lonnie Fisher had died. From Willow, Eve learned that Lonnie Fisher had been an adventurous young girl who had disappeared into the woods one night and had been found dead the next morning. The details matched what little information had been in the news article that Kenny had found.

“Did your parents ever tell you how Lonnie was killed?” Eve asked. It occurred to her that maybe she shouldn’t be asking such questions of a twelve-year-old girl, except that Willow didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. She seemed to find it all very enthralling.

“No, they never told me,” she admitted, before adding in a whisper, “-But I heard them talking about it one night at the dining table. I hid in the hallway and listened. They said that they’d heard from the Marstons, another family in Blackmoor, that Lonnie had been found with wounds. Like attack marks or something, from wildlife. But it was a big secret because they didn't want people panicking about the woods.”

“Really?” Eve rubbed her temple, thinking. “Willow, you know that things are strange in Blackmoor-”

“-Duh-”

“-Right,” Eve continued, smiling. “What sort of things do you do to make sure you don’t get in any trouble? You have the curfew. Are there any other rules in town?”

Willow shrugged. “Well, we aren’t allowed to go out after dark. We have all those locks on the doors and they have to stay locked at night. Um...,” she paused to think for a moment. “It’s not really a ‘rule’, but Dad will sometimes stay up all night like he’s waiting. He keeps his shotgun by the bed. And on those nights Mom doesn’t sleep much either. That’s why sometimes you’ll be doing stuff in the middle of the day and they won’t be around at all. They have to sleep because they were awake all night.”

Eve remembered the day before when she’d arrived. There hadn’t been another soul around the house. Hugo had said that his parents were sleeping.

“Thank you, Willow. And what about you? Do you wait up all night?”

“No, not really. I follow the rules. I stay inside after dark and I would never go into the woods at night and we lock all the doors after curfew-”

“-And what time is curfew?”

“Oh, it changes. It’s just whenever it gets dark. That’s the big thing in Blackmoor-” she held up her finger and wagged it to emphasize her point, “-Don’t be out after dark.”

It wasn’t lost on Eve that on her first day in Blackmoor she’d already broken the main rule, but who could blame her? No one had told her about this crucial detail. Had anyone told Bill? Was that why he was dead?

When she did find a couple of minutes to break away from Willow, Eve cornered Hugo as he was brewing tea in the kitchen. He stood leaning against the counter by the sink, waiting for his water to boil.

“Hugo.”

“Eve,” he smiled at her with all of his confident charm. “How can I help you?”

She wondered briefly if Hugo’s manner of coping with the strangeness of his hometown was to adopt this pompous attitude that allowed him to deflect from the real unusualness of it all. She decided that she probably shouldn’t grill him on that and, instead, she moved next to him and leaned her back against the kitchen counter.

“Hugo, what exactly are you doing here? I’m sorry if that’s a bit direct, but you seem like someone who would thrive in a city. Instead, you’re in Blackmoor.”

Hugo looked at her and raised his eyebrow before moving away so he could lean against the counter diagonal to her. “You really just jump into things, don’t you, Eve?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have time for small talk.”

“Right. You’re investigating.” He sighed. “I’m here for my parents. I did thrive in the city. I studied at Oxford actually-”

“-There it is-”

He ignored her. “But with the death of your friend last month, my parents called me and asked me to come back for a bit. Things had been pretty quiet for a while. Now it seems like it’s starting up again.”

“Quiet how?”

Hugo frowned. “When I was growing up, we had some strange deaths, yeah. Infrequent, never enough to be... I don’t know, a pattern. But enough that it freaked people out, for sure. It started with Lonnie, and then a few others, all gone into the woods and found dead the next morning. Or after several mornings. And there was some talk about wildlife. Wolves, you know. But they aren’t exactly commonplace here, Eve. They’ve essentially been hunted out of the entire country. People threw around the idea of foxes for a while, but that’s just absurd, isn’t it? Anyway, it happened again and again, and eventually, people just decided that it had to be wolves.”

Hugo turned from her as the kettle began to whistle. He turned off the stove as he continued, “The town called hunters and police and exterminators but they never found anything. No dens, no tracks. And then, maybe five years after Lonnie, it all started to go quiet. There’d be nothing for months and months, and then some poor sap would go out after dark and they’d wind up dead. But nothing like the way it had been before. Before it was almost every month. Eventually, it was just once or twice a year. And then once every two years. We kept the curfew, of course, but everyone started to feel a bit better.”

Hugo poured the hot water into a mug. “I went off to school. Had a great time, by the way. The women at Oxford? Eve, I’m telling you-”

“How ‘bout we stay on topic, Hugo.”

“Sure, sure.” He winked. “Anyway. I went off to school and things were pretty good back here. But then your friend was killed at the campground. Normally that wouldn’t be enough for me to come back, but my parents were pretty insistent. They said they had a bad feeling. And a new guest, too, who was going to be staying with them for an extended period of time. So I came back to help out and not long after that, you showed up. And then the campgrounds were attacked.”

He let his final sentence hang in the air as he dipped his tea bag in and out of his tea. It occurred to Eve to ask about the guest, presumably Nadia, but she had a list of questions and she decided to stick to it.

“Hugo... what happened to Alexander Averford?”

Hugo’s expression became tinged with sadness. “He was a mate of mine when we were kids. When I was away at school, he died. He took his parents’ car out after dark. Dunno why he did it. But they found the car the next morning. The hood was dented like he’d hit something really big. A couple of the tires were slashed. They think he started to walk down the highway and, uh, at some point he got attacked by whatever it is that hides out in the woods.”

Silence fell between them. Eventually, Eve spoke up. “I’m sorry, Hugo.”

Hugo gave a small shrug. “It’s over and done with, really. Now I’m here, and you’re here-” he shot her a sly look. “-And you still haven’t told me what it is I can help you with.”

Eve rolled her eyes. “Just when I thought you could be serious.”

Hugo chuckled. “You can’t be too serious, Eve. It’ll drive you crazy, in a place like this.” With that, he took his mug and wandered out of the kitchen. Eve watched him go, turning over the new information in her mind.

What Hugo had told her seemed to account for some of the holes in Blackmoor’s history, although, in truth, the new information simply took the large gap in her timeline and left her with smaller ones. On top of that, Hugo had said that there hadn’t been a pattern. The frequency of deaths had decreased over time but now they might be ramping up again.

Eve wasn’t sure what to make of any of it, really, but she did feel like her day had been improving. After her encounter at the manor, she was glad to feel as though she was making at least a bit of progress.

The remainder of the afternoon passed her by, and the early evening as well, and eventually it came time to sit down for dinner with the Turners. As she left her room she heard Mrs. Turner call up and ask her if she could shutter her window and make sure it was locked. Eve returned to her room to do so. The sun was mostly set, only a slim band of its light remained along the horizon. Eve suppressed a shudder. She was glad to be indoors after all she had learned that day.

She descended the stairs and rounded the corner into the dining room, and was surprised to see the guest from Room 1 already seated at the table. Her brown hair was tied back in a ponytail with several loose strands framing the sides of her face. Eve thought she seemed to be a rather mousy girl. She moved with a certain hesitancy and the smile she offered Willow was a timid one at best. Eve decided to sit opposite her in order to better observe her during their meal.

The rest of the Turner family sat themselves down, with the exception of Mrs. Turner, who appeared last from the kitchen holding a tray of roast chicken. It inexplicably reminded Eve of Niko, of his cooking and how it was always better than hers. She tried her best not to let that bitterness linger as she began to cover her plate in food.

Not long into the meal, Mr. Turner cleared his throat and addressed Eve. “So, we got the car back to town this afternoon. It was minor damage, Ms. Polastri, so don’t be too hard on yourself. Just the broken headlight and the tire.”

Eve swallowed her food slowly. “And the, uh, the windshield was-”

“Windshield was perfectly fine! Not even so much as a chip in the glass.”

Eve did her best not to frown at Mr. Turner. “Oh, that’s... that’s good.”

The fact that neither Raymond nor Arthur Turner had mentioned the blood spatter didn’t make sense. There _had_ been blood, a lot of it. Hadn’t there?

As for Nadia, she didn’t offer much in the way of conversation. She seemed to speak only broken English at best, and the Turners quickly overlooked her presence and focused on themselves and Eve. For her part, Eve wished she could’ve had five minutes alone with the young woman. Five minutes of questioning, even with their language barrier, would’ve felt better than simply just sitting across from her and learning nothing.

The first question Eve wanted to ask was why she had told Willow that she was going to visit the manor if she hadn’t? Or maybe Willow had gotten it wrong, somehow. But Eve didn’t think she had; she was a smart girl. She wasn’t about to ask her about it at the dinner table, though, lest she embarrass Willow or the guest. But the question of it drove her mad, itching at her like a thorn throughout the entirety of the meal.

The topic of the manor almost did come up, if not in the way that Eve had expected. As they were nearly done with their food, Mr. Turner spoke to Eve again. “I nearly forgot. Did you enjoy your walk around town this morning, Ms. Polastri?”

“My- oh, uh, yes, it was lovely,” she stammered, just barely making eye contact with Willow in time to avoid mentioning her visit to the manor. Willow was subtly shaking her head at Eve, willing her not to talk about it.

“The fall foliage is just lovely!” Mrs. Turner exclaimed. “Don’t you agree, Eve?”

“Yes, it’s quite beautiful,” Eve nodded. Willow winked and went back to finishing her meal. Eve hadn’t even realized that the young girl would have had to cover for her, to lie to her own parents about Eve's whereabouts. It made Eve a bit uncomfortable, but she had to admit she was glad not to have to explain things to the Turners.

A short while later, the dinner was done, and Eve rose to help clear plates from the table.

“Oh no, don’t do that,” Mrs. Turner spoke up abruptly, waving Eve away. “Really, I don’t mind at all. You two are our guests, you don’t need to clean up for us.”

Over her shoulder, Eve noticed that Nadia was watching her, watching the interaction. Eve nodded thanks to Mrs. Turner before she turned around to go, and found that Nadia had quickly turned and taken off ahead of her. Eve sighed. It was impossible to get the woman alone, it seemed.

Nadia climbed the stairs to the second level quickly and was already shutting her door by the time Eve reached the upper landing. Eve thought again, like the night before, about knocking, but decided against it. The day had started out rocky with the manor, then she had made some progress with her info gathering from Willow and Hugo. Maybe she should take that as a win and call it a night, and try again with Nadia in the morning.

Eve let herself into her room and collapsed down onto the bed. She wasn’t overly tired and it was still relatively early in the evening, but the shuttered window made it feel later than it was. The sun would continue to set earlier and earlier. Eve imagined winters to feel especially long in Blackmoor.

She pulled her laptop out of her suitcase and returned to the bed. She decided she would kill time doing some of her own research rather than having to call Kenny to look everything up for her. She began with Blackmoor Manor, and the town of Blackmoor, and what public information she could find on strange deaths in the area. She came across a small article detailing Bill’s death, without mentioning his name. She found scattered reports of the latest massacre, the night before, and she read those as well. But nothing led her closer to whatever secret Blackmoor was guarding. Before long, two hours had passed and her brain was swollen with trivial information that didn’t seem to be of any help at all.

It was after 10 o’clock when she heard a noise in the hallway. She was about to call it a night when she heard the soft clicking of a shutting door. Eve turned away from the laptop and tried to focus on the sound.

It could’ve just been Nadia making her way to the bathroom, except that a moment later there was a small creak, the high-pitched groaning of wood as a weight settled onto the staircase. Eve was immediately alert. In fact, she decided that this was her chance. She closed her laptop and pulled herself off the bed. She crossed the room quickly and waited at the door to hear more.

Nadia- at least, she assumed it was Nadia- was making her way very quietly down the stairs. Eve could just hear the other woman’s soft tiptoeing steps as she pressed her ear against her door. The staircase was not Nadia’s friend, creaking softly every so often as she tried her best to stay silent. And then, the creaking stopped, and Eve guessed that Nadia had made it to the main floor.

She waited one second, then another, before gently pulling her door open and poking her head into the hallway. Looking down the staircase, Eve watched as Nadia silently began unlocking the deadbolt and chain that secured the front door. Then, she turned the handle slowly, desperate not to make any noise, and snuck out into the night.

Eve was frozen, dumbfounded. She wasn’t sure what she had expected but it certainly hadn’t been that. She only hesitated for a moment, wondering whether or not she should grab her coat, but every second she wasted was one more second for Nadia to disappear into the dark. She decided to forgo the coat and, imitating Nadia’s sneaky escape, Eve closed her door and crept down the stairs. She pulled the front door open and stepped into the cold air. She immediately wished she’d brought the coat.

Blackmoor’s dim streetlights lit up patches of the darkness around her. It was well and truly nighttime now, the sun long set and the sky reserved for stars. And, of course, the moon. It hung swollen in the sky, partially obstructed by a pair of thick, grey clouds. Its light, in addition to the street lamps, made Eve feel a bit more at ease. It wasn’t lost on her that she was breaking Blackmoor’s number one rule yet again.

A short distance away from her she saw the figure of Nadia stalking through the dark. The woman was making her way along the main road southward towards the woods. If Eve didn’t know better, she would think that Nadia was retracing her own steps from earlier that morning.

She thought about keeping her distance, about waiting to see what this strange woman was up to. At the same time, all of the terrible things in Blackmoor seemed to happen to those who were alone in the dark. Would it be safer for Eve to catch up to her? For them to stick together in the shadows of the night?

Eve was so caught up in her thoughts that, as she did her best to keep up with Nadia’s hurrying form, she misstepped and tripped awkwardly on an uneven bit of the old cobblestone road. She did her best not to yelp, letting out only a muffled cry of surprise, but it was enough. She glanced ahead of her once she’d caught her balance and saw that Nadia had turned and was looking back towards her. They were nearly at the edge of town, only two stone houses stood between them and the countryside. Without making a sound, Nadia beckoned to Eve hurriedly before scampering around the side of one of the houses. Without pausing to think, Eve followed.

Nadia led her to the stone wall of the final house on the edge of Blackmoor. To one side stood the house, its windows shuttered and not a speck of light peeping through. It was likely that its inhabitants were already asleep. To the other side, a small empty field that served as a buffer between the town and the forest. In the distance, Eve could make out the trunks of narrow trees, rising from the earth like fingers clawing from a grave. She pulled her gaze away from their crooked shapes, the sight of them too eerie in the moonlight.

Nadia’s voice, hushed but urgent, suddenly cut through the night air. “What are you doing here?”

She spoke with the same halting Russian accent as she had at the Turner Residence, only Eve was surprised to find that her English was much-improved. “I could ask you the same thing,” she replied in an earnest whisper.

“I have to take care of something. You should go back to the house, Ms. Polastri. You should not be out after dark.” At her own words, Nadia looked around cautiously.

“Neither should you,” Eve replied levelly. Nadia appeared skittish and Eve wanted to get her question out before the other woman balked. “Nadia, did you visit Blackmoor Manor recently? Willow said you did but-”

Nadia cut her off abruptly. “Did you see her?”

“What?”

“Did you see her when you went to the manor? I know you went there this morning. I know you are treading in dangerous waters without even knowing their depths.”

Eve frowned and ignored the woman’s cryptic statement. “I went there this morning, yes. Willow said you’d gone there too, but-”

“Did you see her? Talk to her?” Nadia asked again, insistently.

“Villanelle?”

“Oksana,” Nadia hissed. “But Villanelle is what she calls herself, ever since she left Russia.”

Eve’s mind was reeling. Villanelle was not Ms. Astankova’s real name, just as Julie hadn’t been either. Nadia knew her real name. Nadia knew her from Russia, it seemed? Eve felt as though she were on the edge of something begging to be uncovered. Before she could ask any questions, Nadia grabbed her by the shoulder.

“You need to be careful. I know why you’re here. I know what you’re looking for. It’s Oksana. You have to be careful around Oksana.”

“Nadia,” Eve brought her hand up to the woman’s wrist. “I would be more inclined to believe you if you explained what the hell is going on. Why are you out here in the dark? What were you trying to do?”

The other woman looked up at the moon and frowned. “It is a long story and we do not have much time but...,” she appeared lost in thought for a moment before continuing, “I met your friend, you know.”

“What? You mean Bill?”

Nadia nodded. Then she let out a tired sigh. “I will tell you what I know. Quickly, though. I feel that I owe you that much, to keep you safe from the thing you are looking for, and to make up for what happened to your friend.”

Eve opened her mouth in confusion, preparing to ask a million questions, but Nadia cut her off.

“I used to live in the campground.”

“What?”

Nadia closed her eyes as she continued, “Westfield Farm Campground. I was there for most of the summer. But that's not the beginning. I need to tell you from the beginning for you to understand.”

Eve nodded her head slowly, unsure of what to say. When she said nothing at all, Nadia opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and began to tell Eve her story.

“So. The beginning was a psychiatric hospital in Russia where I spent much of my childhood-”

“-A psychiatric hospital?” Nadia frowned at the interruption and Eve covered her mouth with her hands. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“Yes. I was sent there because I saw the ghost of my mother. She died when I was little but she would haunt me in the house where I lived with my father. She wanted me to bring my father to her in the basement, so they could talk. I was only seven, and it was my mother, so I did as she asked. I locked my father in so that they could talk as long as they wanted-” Nadia shook her head abruptly. “-I am getting sidetracked. The point is that when he eventually got out, he sent me away. He never liked me much to begin with, but locking him in the basement with the supposed ghost of my dead mother did not do me any favours in his eyes. He sent me to the hospital to get treatment for what he called my ‘delusions’. ”

“Were they? Delusions, I mean.”

Nadia shrugged, apparently unbothered by this interruption. “I only ever saw my mother’s ghost in our old home. I never returned there after the hospital and I have never seen her ghost since. Make of that what you will. I have seen other things, though, and that is what I shared with your friend. And what I will share with you.”

Eve nodded solemnly and waited for Nadia to continue. Then, she held up her hand as she added, “Hold on, have you been faking being bad at English this entire time?”

Nadia shrugged. “More or less.”

“Okay, continue.”

“When I lived at the hospital I met others with strange pasts like mine, with different illnesses and conditions and states of mind. I learned to be compassionate to them, to befriend a few even. Many were just misunderstood and in need of support. But there was one who seemed to want or need no support at all. A girl near my own age who’d been brought to the hospital under bizarre circumstances. We heard rumours that she was half-feral, that her parents had abandoned her when she’d started to become more a wild animal than a human child. She was almost always kept in a solitary wing, away from everyone else and deprived of contact, at least for the first few months she was there.

As Nadia told her story, Eve wrapped her arms around herself. She was really regretting not grabbing her jacket.

“Eventually, I did meet her. We were outside one afternoon. I was drawing in a sketchbook when she came up next to me. I almost didn’t hear her, I was so focused on my drawing. It was of my mother. Then she spoke up suddenly, right in my ear, and I nearly screamed.”

“She said, ‘Is that your mother?’ and I told her it was. I told her my mother was a ghost and she said ‘I wish my mother were a ghost too’. I have never forgotten that. It seemed so strange and so ungrateful to me that someone would want their own mother dead. I am not so naive anymore, I know not all mothers are good mothers but at the time it was... upsetting. I told her as much, and when she grinned at me I got up and I pushed her. She pushed me back and I fell into the grass, and she jumped onto me and clawed at me like a little beast. A nurse had to pull her off of me. I didn’t see her again for several weeks after that.”

“Nadia, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you said you needed to be quick...?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Nadia shook her head to herself. “I will try to... speed it up. When I saw her again, she apologized and introduced herself as ‘Oksana’. She said she’d heard the rumours that she was an abandoned little monster but she insisted that they weren’t true. When I asked her what had happened then, she refused to say. She would only tell me that she was eight years old and had already tried to kill a man. She said they locked her up because they were afraid of her, not because they wanted to help her. We talked for a bit longer and then, when it came time to part ways, she did the strangest thing. She lifted her hand up to my cheek and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. As a young girl, it was strangely thrilling but now...” Nadia shivered at the memory.

“Oksana, weird kid, got it,” Eve mumbled.

“Yes, weird kid... There was a commotion one evening and I went to investigate. I was young and curious and I knew the hospital well at this point, having been there nearly a year. I knew the commotion came from Oksana’s wing, and I snuck around as much as I could to figure out what was happening. I heard yelling, and the call for a lockdown. It’s so strange, you know, when I think about it, there was hardly any doctors or nurses around. That should have warned me, I think.”

Now that the story appeared to be getting somewhere, Eve found herself leaning in closer to Nadia, soaking up every word.

“I rounded a corner and found myself in the hallway that led to Oksana’s room. She was there, her back to me, crouching over a male doctor, tearing at him with her little nails. Only they weren’t nails anymore, but claws, and she was spraying blood all over the walls of the hallway. It was pooling underneath the man’s body too.”

As Nadia spoke, her voice took on a distant quality, as though she weren’t recounting a story but reliving it, trapped once again inside the body of her seven-year-old self.

“I must have screamed or... made some noise because she turned and saw me. And she was... different. Horrible. She didn’t look human anymore, she looked...,” Nadia squeezed her eyes shut.

“Even years later, it is hard to say it all out loud. I know it sounds insane. But she killed that man, and she would’ve killed me too. She snarled at me and she had sharper teeth than a person should have, like little wolflike fangs. Her hair was wild and not so blonde as it normally was. It was tinged with black and she had... fur all along the parts of her body that peeked out from under the white pyjamas they made us wear.”

Nadia’s voice was shaking as she spoke. It seemed like she had almost forgotten that Eve was there, that they were standing in the cold darkness of nighttime. For her part, Eve could picture the scene vividly. She merely took the beast she’d seen the night before and imagined it smaller, more childlike and closer to being human. It was a chilling image, one that she was sure had haunted Nadia for years. One that made her shiver with the implication of Nadia’s story: that Villanelle, or Oksana, was this monster.

Eve couldn’t dwell on the revelation in the moment. Nadia was giving her everything she needed, all the information she could hope for. She needed to mine her for all she was worth. “Nadia, you mentioned the campground? Why were you at the campground?”

Nadia’s eyes focused on Eve. Eve thought they might’ve been shimmering with unshed tears brought on by the memory of what she’d witnessed as a child. “Well... not long after that incident, Oksana was released. I couldn’t believe it. She was a monster, a _real_ monster, and they were letting her go. The man who adopted her had visited several times, I even met him once or twice. I think he entertained the idea of adopting me.”

“Konstantin?” Eve interrupted. “Was it Konstantin?”

Nadia nodded. “He took her out of that place after she’d been there two years. I don’t think they ever figured out what was wrong with her. I think they didn’t want to deal with her anymore. I don’t think that doctor was the first one to die.” Nadia shivered. “I was discharged a short while later. I almost forgot about Oksana, except on the nights when she haunted my dreams. And then she haunted me more and more, even into my waking hours. I decided to try to find her, to warn people about her, wherever she was, since I was the only one who knew the dangerous beast she could be.”

Nadia took a deep breath and continued. “You ask why I came to the campground. I figured out she was here, she was the reason people in Blackmoor have been dying. I don’t know how they’ve kept it so quiet. I don’t know. But I came to do something, to investigate and find out and stop it if I could.”

She looked at Eve earnestly. “Your friend. He was doing the same. We crossed paths in town one day and got to talking. When he told me he worked for the government and was investigating Blackmoor, I thought I could finally tell someone everything and make this all go away. I told him I was staying at the campground and I would give him all the information I had if he could meet me there so we could speak in private. He came just before sunset and I told him everything I told you. He asked many questions and by the time my story was done, it was dark out. When he went to leave, I accompanied him to his car. That was when we were attacked...”

Nadia trailed off, lost in the memory of the night of Bill’s death. “I think... I think she was there for me. She knows that I know what she is. Maybe she was there for your friend too, I’m not sure. But I think it was me she was hunting.”

Eve was finding it hard to take in all the information she’d been given. Nadia’s story of Oksana. Villanelle’s monstrous form. Bill’s death. It was a lot to process. A lot she would need to think over with a sound mind when she wasn’t chilled to the bone and in partial shock from the reveal of it all.

She reached an arm out to touch Nadia’s shoulder reassuringly, and then she remembered.

“ _If you see her, you tell her that I wish she had visited. You’ll tell her that, won’t you Eve?”_

Eve’s throat went dry. “Nadia... does Villanelle- Oksana- does she know that you’re here?”

Nadia shook her head. “I don’t think so. After the campground, I made sure to make it seem like I had left. I went away for a little while before I came back into town discreetly. I have been keeping to the Turners’ for the better part of a month. I have only been out a handful of times, to spy on the manor from a distance. To see if they’re home. To see if there’s a pattern to their movements.”

“Oh, Nadia,” Eve murmured. The other woman didn’t understand how much danger she was in, especially after Eve’s interaction with Villanelle that morning. “You shouldn’t have to do this. This is hardly a job that you’re qualified for.”

“And you are?” the other woman spat with sudden vehemence. “You are prepared to deal with a killer?”

Eve didn’t respond. Instead, she glanced down at Nadia’s clenched fists. Something glinted in the moonlight.

“What are you planning to do?” she asked hesitantly.

“I-” Nadia swallowed. “I do not want to live with this fear anymore. This feeling of being hunted while I hunt her in turn. I feel... guilty about your friend. I feel responsible for his death. I want an end to it.”

Nadia opened her fist and showed Eve the knife she held in her grasp. Eve shook her head. “Nadia, with all you’ve seen, you know that it’s a death wish to try to end this on your own.”

“I have to. I have to try. I am going to sneak in and find her in her sleep. She _has_ to sleep, some nights-”

“Nadia, don’t be stupid!” Eve insisted, fighting not to raise her voice. Now that she truly understood the horror of what was happening in Blackmoor, the curse the town was under, she felt fear seeping into her bones with a touch far more chilling than the cold autumn air. “You have no idea if she’ll be there or if she’s-”

A flock of birds burst suddenly from the woods nearby. In the darkness, Eve couldn’t tell what kind, but she wouldn’t have been surprised to find a murder of crows circling above them. The sudden noise from the trees had given both women a scare, with Eve struggling not to scream and Nadia whipping open her folding knife. They were both breathing heavily despite hardly moving at all. The night settled into silence around them again.

Eve’s eyes were drawn to the treeline. She was searching for whatever had caused the birds to take flight. It wasn't long before she found the disturbance. There, in the light of the full moon, she saw her. Her large body was as black as the darkness around her. Her eyes shone bright like reflections of the moon. Eve couldn't breathe even if she wanted to. The beast stood watching them from the woods, snarling, her wicked teeth glinting in the moonlight.

It was because she referred to the beast as ‘her’ that Eve knew she believed Nadia’s story. It was insane and impossible, like something pulled from a nightmare and dumped into real life, but Eve believed it all the same. Villanelle was Oksana and Oksana was a monster. And then the monster rushed towards them, bathed in the spotlight of the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took some creative liberties with nadia, mainly by giving her the ability to speak flawless english for the sake of narrative, pls forgive me.


	4. open my heart and let it bleed onto yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone saying ‘rip nadia’, IM TELLIN THE STORY (but you’re all very right)

“Oh god.”

Eve was frozen in shock as she watched the beast- Oksana- start towards them from the woods. As she broke away from the treeline, Eve could see her more clearly. She was tall, over six feet, and covered in black fur. Her arms were long and gangly as if made so she could run on all fours if she wanted to. Her face was more wolf than woman; a pointed snout and long jaw framed teeth that were far too canine. Eve was reminded of the snarling wolf head she’d seen on the manor’s door. Below a pair of pointed ears, Oksana’s eyes were lit like an animal’s in the dark with no trace of humanity inside them.

Without Nadia, Eve would have likely remained paralyzed by fear until Oksana was upon them. Instead, the young woman grabbed Eve’s arm and shook her roughly.

“Go!” She urged. “Go back to the house!”

Eve’s eyes stayed on the beast already halfway across the field from them. “Nadia, she’s going to kill you, you have to run. We have to run.”

“She’ll kill us both if we run together. Go, now!” With that, Nadia shoved Eve hard in an effort to jumpstart her into action.

It worked, somewhat, as Eve stumbled to the side. Her view of Oksana faltered for a moment as she looked down and caught her balance. It was enough to jolt some adrenaline through her, and she registered for the first time the violence with which her heart pounded in her chest. It beat against her ribs the way a prisoner railed against a cage. She looked back to Nadia.

“Nadia-”

“Go!” the woman shouted. Eve saw the knife glint in her hand. It was small and insignificant against the thing bearing down on them. Eve supposed it was better than nothing.

She turned and began to stumble towards the main road. She came around to the front of the house and made for the light of the nearest street lamp ahead. Just then, she heard Nadia’s voice call out in the night.

“Oksana!”

Eve stopped. A part of her was screaming at her to run and keep running but something held her fast. It could’ve been her curiosity, it could’ve been Oksana’s curse. It could’ve been madness wrought by the power of the full moon. Eve couldn’t explain it, she simply slowed to a stop and lingered.

“Oksana-” Nadia’s voice was shaking. “-Please, Oksana, listen to me.”

Eve’s jaw dropped. Nadia was actually trying to speak to the beast as if Oksana were in there as if she could be reasoned with. For a moment, fascination got the better of her and Eve entertained the idea of turning back, to hide and watch what would happen. Then, some modicum of self-preservation dug in its heels. Eve shook her head and began to stumble forwards again, her legs wobbly with fear.

She had only made it to the second house when she heard Nadia’s scream. Blood-curdling and hair-raising, it was followed by sounds Eve recognized too well. The tearing noises of a slaughter, the final cries of a victim. Eve’s mind flashed to the previous night in the Turners’ car. She tried to focus on running but every footfall echoed like a church bell in her ears, dazing her.

She lost her footing on the cobblestones and nearly fell facefirst onto the road. She swore under her breath as she gathered herself. Then, she registered that the night had grown quiet again. Feeling a sense of dread, she scurried off the street and towards the wall of the nearest house. She hugged the stone as if it would open up and let her in, as if it might save her from the horror of Blackmoor.

Eve panted hard even though she hadn’t run far. She decided that adrenaline was a life-saver, but it was also a bitch. It drained all her capacity for rational thought and left her a reactive, instinctual mess. Why was she hiding against the stone wall of this house? Why hadn’t she run straight back to the Turners’?

The most terrifying question that occurred to her then was where was the beast? The village was silent, Nadia was silent, and every breath that Eve took felt like a tempest in her chest. Maybe the beast had gone? She had gotten what she came for, hadn’t she? Nadia was almost certainly dead. With her prey found and successfully hunted, wouldn’t Oksana simply return to her home?

The thought of Blackmoor Manor sent a shiver down Eve’s spine. She had _been there_ , just that morning. She had met her monster face-to-face. She remembered how she’d felt immediately drawn to Villanelle and how she’d had the good sense not to trust her. Her eyes, cunning and fathomless, flashed in Eve’s mind. The ghost of her touch still lingered on Eve’s wrist.

She now knew the ‘how’ of the curse over Blackmoor, but the ‘why’ of it all still eluded her.

A twig snapped in the distance, pulling Eve out of her thoughts. She was surprised to find that she was no longer shivering. She crept along the side of the stone house until she was peeking around the corner and into the backyard. She could see the other stone house a short distance away. She knew Nadia’s body would be on the opposite side.

Or would it? Would the beast have dragged it away? Eve didn’t want to think about what that could mean. She tiptoed as best she could into the backyard of the house and began to make her way back towards the edge of town. She knew it was stupid but she had convinced herself that Oksana was gone. She told herself that she wanted to see the scene while it was still fresh, before Raymond could get to it. The truth was, she wasn’t really certain why she was going back to look. A morbid curiosity, or perhaps the chance to learn more.

As she crept along the back of the houses, she wondered why no one had come outside at the sound of Nadia’s scream. It was chilling to think that the townsfolk would willfully ignore her cries for help, but then again, they were only people, and they’d had to contend with Oksana’s terror for over a decade. She had the image in her mind of families huddled in their basements, waiting out the night like they might wait out a storm. At a certain point, she supposed that their fear of the dark simply ran too deep to be overcome for the sake of a stranger.

She rounded the corner of the final stone house, the one that bordered the field that she’d watched Oksana cross only minutes prior. She looked around cautiously and, when she saw no sign of the monster, she crept forward until she found Nadia’s body. It wasn’t difficult to spot. Crimson blood glistened in the moonlight.

Nadia was on her back, her eyes open in fright, her mouth agape in her final scream. Blood seeped from her neck, or the remains of her neck. It had been pulled open by teeth. Eve felt her stomach writhe with nausea. Nadia also sported deep, ugly claw wounds in her chest. Her knife lay in her limp hand, clean and unused. Eve felt a pang of sadness at the sight of her. She’d only wanted to help.

As she hovered over Nadia’s body, she heard slow, heavy footfalls behind her. She hinged forward and reached for the knife hurriedly before turning around. Stalking towards her was the massive shape of Oksana’s beastly form. She walked on two legs. Her heavy, panting breaths made clouds in the moonlight. Eve could make out streaks of wet blood staining her fur. Her instincts were telling her to scream but the sounds simply wouldn’t come out. Just like in a nightmare, she was helpless and alone.

Eve began to back away from the wolfish creature only to trip and stumble over Nadia’s outstretched arm. She fell backwards and onto the ground and bruised her tailbone, not that it mattered. Bruises meant little while looking into the jaws of a beast.

Oksana continued her slow prowling movement and, as Eve began to back up as best she could while on the ground, Oksana pitched forward and began to walk on all fours. Eve watched her claws dig into the soft earth beneath them. Saliva dripped off of her glistening teeth.

As she moved, Eve kept the knife clenched tight in her fist. She couldn’t back up fast enough to outpace the beast, and soon enough Oksana was beginning to overtake her. She was slow and methodical as she began to hover over Eve. It only made her so much more terrifying. She blew hot air into Eve’s face as she came to a stop above her. Her canine lips pulled into a snarl, a low growl building in the back of her throat. Eve turned her face away as Oksana’s teeth drew closer.

The attack was much less violent than Eve had thought it would be. She had overheard the brutality of Oksana’s other kills. She had expected it would be the same for her; death coming quickly in a shower of blood and teeth. Instead, Oksana was unrushed. It was unnerving; it meant that Eve couldn’t know when the carnage might begin.

A thought sparked in her mind. A last-ditch effort. Eve willed herself to turn and look into the monster’s eyes.

“Oksana.”

Her voice was so hoarse with fear that she could hardly speak but somehow she managed to wrestle the name past her lips. It hadn’t served Nadia, but it was all she had left. Something to buy her time, at the very least. It felt like a prayer whispered to a not-so benevolent god; something heard but not necessarily considered. And yet...

The growl died in Oksana’s throat. Her eyes remained every inch the eyes of a wolf; unknowable to Eve and just as fathomless as Villanelle's had been. Her snarl stopped and, for a moment, Eve wondered if the name really did reach the woman within the beast. A moment passed where the only noise was their breathing: Oksana’s heavy and unhurried, Eve’s shallow and scared.

And then Eve thrust the knife upwards between the beast's ribs.

Oksana let out a sudden, high-pitched yelp. Her snarl returned and she prepared to snap at Eve. Eve twisted the blade of the knife before pulling it out. Blood gushed down onto the back of her hands, coating them. It dripped down and past her wrists, soaking into the sleeves of her turtleneck.

The beast on top of her flinched at the pain and pulled back, giving Eve an opening. She brought one arm across Oksana’s chest and pushed hard while kicking with her legs. When the beast didn’t immediately move, Eve took her other hand, the one still holding the knife, and drive her fist into the wound she’d made. Oksana yelped again, and Eve managed to wriggle free from her position beneath the beast. This time, she made no mistake about what she should do. She scrambled onto her feet and began to flee back towards the Turners’ home. She heard the angry gnashing of teeth still behind her.

She had just made it to the main road when Oksana began to howl. Her cry pierced the night like an arrow, sharp and unwavering. It was clear and bewitching, and Eve felt a moment of awe. She had to fight not to stop, not to turn back and listen. She forced her feet forwards and kept on running. A few seconds later, the howl came to an end.

Foolishly, Eve thought that maybe it meant that the monster was retreating. She had stabbed it- her- rather deeply. Straight to the hilt of the knife. Eve felt a pang of remorse for the woman, not the wolf, that she’d injured.

Then, interrupting her thoughts, she heard the sound of the same heavy footfalls as before, only this time they were running. They were behind her and gaining. Fear wrapped around Eve’s heart and she willed herself to run faster. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder. She kept her eyes forwards and ran.

The main road of Blackmoor extended before her. She followed it and prayed that she wouldn’t stumble. The stone houses on either side played audience to the chase. They were apathetic to the danger that Eve was in, merely watching to see whether or not she would be mauled at their feet.

A few strides later, she could see the Turners’ house. Light shone through the window shutters; someone was awake. She was nearly there. She could hear the snarling and snapping of Oksana’s jaws behind her, growing closer, driving her forwards like a fox fleeing a hound.

Ahead of her, the door to the Turner Residence opened and Arthur stepped out. Eve had never been so happy to see another human being. In his hands he held a double-barrelled shotgun, the gun Willow had said he kept by his bed. He raised it towards her and waited, and Eve understood.

She stopped suddenly and held up her hand. “No!”

“Move!” Arthur shouted.

Eve heard the sound of the Oksana behind her. In a second, she would be on her, and Eve would be dead. She faced Arthur’s shotgun and knew that even if she didn’t move, he would still take the shot, and she’d probably be dead then too. She did the only thing she could. She ducked.

As soon as she hit the ground, Mr. Turner fired. Unlike Oksana’s howl, the sound of the shotgun was a discordant roar that shattered the night. Out of place and jarring, it seemed more unnatural than the beast at which it was directed. It happened so quickly that Eve didn’t see where the slug impacted, but she heard Oksana’s angry cry of pain. She turned and looked up and saw the beast a few feet away. She stood uncertainly on two legs, as though debating whether to continue her hunt or to retreat into the woods. She stared at Arthur Turner with hate in her eyes. A chunk of flesh had been blown off her shoulder, muscle and sinew shining wetly in the moonlight.

Mr. Turner fired again. This time Oksana was ready for it. Eve watched as she dove to the side and resumed her sprint on all fours, only now she made for a gap between two houses. As quickly as she’d come, she was lost in the darkness, disappearing into the night. For a moment, neither Eve nor Arthur moved. Then, they heard a baleful howl. It was malevolent and resentful, but distant as well. It seemed that Oksana had fled.

Eve hardly heard Mr. Turner calling her name until he was standing directly behind her. “Ms. Polastri!” She felt his hand on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

As Eve rose on shaky legs, she noticed lights on in other houses along the street. One intrepid resident even opened their front door and poked their head out.

“Arthur?” they called uncertainly.

“It’s alright, Henrik. It’s gone.”

Eve heard a hushed “thank god” from the man before he retreated back into his house and shut the door.

“Does no one in this town care what just happened?” Eve asked, incredulous. “Nadia is-”

“People are scared,” Arthur grunted, cutting her off. “You don’t know what they’ve been through. Come on.”

He began to walk quickly back towards his house, leaving Eve to follow. As she did, she glanced down at her hands as if seeing them for the first time. They were covered in sticky, drying blood. They shook uncontrollably.

“Oh...,” she murmured. Sometime while she’d been fleeing, she’d dropped the knife. She hadn’t even noticed it fall from her grasp. It would be out there somewhere in the dust. She wondered if she should go look for it, but she followed Mr. Turner instead.

Just as they reached the threshold of the house, they heard a voice calling out.

“Excuse me, just hang on a minute!”

Eve turned and saw Inspector Raymond coming towards them. Of course, he would show up now of all times, with her hands drenched in blood and a dead woman around the corner.

"I'd like a word if you don't mind!"

“Now, listen here, Inspector,” Arthur started, turning to face Raymond. “This is no time for an interrogation. Ms. Polastri’s nearly been killed. We have to get back indoors _now_.”

“She rather looks as though she’s done the killing, wouldn’t you say?” Raymond replied, his eyes training over Eve’s blood-soaked hands. “Perhaps I could come in then if it so important to be indoor-”

“I’m afraid that won’t be happening,” Mr. Turner replied, his voice resolute. “It's nearing midnight and far too late for your questions. They can wait until morning, I’m sure.”

Eve felt a wave of gratitude for the man. She was in no way able to think clearly at the moment; an interrogation with Raymond would be a disaster.

“I must insist that-”

“For Christ’s sake, man!” Arthur shouted. “Didn’t you see what I just bloody shot at?!” He gestured wildly with his shotgun. “There’s a devil roaming Blackmoor, been on us for years. You say you’re here to investigate? Well do your damn job and figure out what the hell it wants so we can be rid of it! Or, if you’re feeling particularly stupid, I’ll give you this shotgun and you can go hunt it down yourself-” When Raymond didn’t reply, Arthur nodded and continued, “That’s what I thought. Now, you don’t have any legal authority to enter my home so, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take my guest back to her room and make sure she’s alright, and you are most welcome to _fuck off_ in the meantime.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed into the house. Eve followed, sparing a quick glance at Raymond. The investigator’s face was twisted in a mix of anger and surprise. Eve didn’t linger to see what he might do. She entered the Turners’ house and let the door shut behind her.

Once they were inside, all the bravado evaporated from Arthur’s bearing. He sighed heavily, resting the shotgun against the wall before turning and facing Eve. Before he addressed her, he stepped around her and set about locking all the mechanisms on the front door. It was then that Eve really registered what she had done.

She and Nadia had snuck out of their home in the middle of the night and put everyone in the Turner household at risk by doing so. And for what? So that she could follow a hunch? To learn more about Nadia? Now Nadia was dead.

“Mr. Turner, I-”

“I think, after everything, just ‘Arthur’ is fine.” He turned from the door to face her, his face a portrait of exhaustion. “I’ll assume by the blood on your hands that I was too late to help Ms. Kadomtseya.”

“Oh, it’s-” Eve shook her head. That it was Oksana’s blood was irrelevant to the topic at hand. “Yes, Nadia is dead.”

Arthur nodded grimly. “I better go call the police then. And you, Ms. Polastri? Care to explain why you two snuck out of the house tonight? I feel that maybe you at least owe me that.”

“Mr. Tur- Arthur, I’m so sorry. I-" She paused, then tried again. "Thank you for what you did- I didn’t mean- I didn’t think-”

Arthur held up his hand to cut off Eve's sputterings.

“Just the why of it, please, if you don’t mind.”

_The why of it._

Eve paused, unable to respond as the gears in her brain started turning. They had been stalled by the fear and adrenaline of the night, but now, in the light and safety of the house, they creaked forwards again.

_Why?_

Villanelle was Oksana and Oksana was a monster. She was the reason for the so-called ‘curse’ over Blackmoor. She was the killer prowling the woods at night. She’d killed Bill, Nadia, and countless others. Sean McNeil, Lonnie Fisher, Alexander Averford. They were all undoubtedly hers. But why? Was it simply because she was a monster? And the monster itself, how did that happen to a young girl? How? Why? The questions rang through Eve’s mind.

Oddly enough, she found herself thinking again of Villanelle’s hand grasping her own. The softness of it despite her capacity for violence.

“ _-she did the strangest thing. She lifted her hand up to my cheek and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.”_

The fact of the matter was that Eve had only just uncovered the tip of the iceberg. There was still so much more to know and to understand about the beast, Oksana, Villanelle. Where had she come from and why had she come to Blackmoor? What happened to her? To her family? What made her into the monster she became?

The questions could’ve been endless; one after another forming in her head, splitting off from their predecessors like the divisions of a cell. Then Arthur cleared his throat and Eve was brought back to the moment.

“Ms. Polastri?”

“I- yes- sorry. The... the why of it. I got the feeling that Nadia knew something about... about what had happened to my coworker. When she snuck out, I decided to follow her to see what she was up to. With the curfew in Blackmoor, it seemed odd that she’d choose to go out so late-”

“Very odd.” Arthur sighed. “And? Did you learn anything before... _it_ showed up?”

Eve had never been a very good liar. But there came times when she still had to try. “No, I- Nadia wanted to investigate too. I guess that’s why she was staying here for so long. But she was having about as much luck as I was before- before tonight.”

Eve let the lie settle in the air between them. After a few seconds, Arther seemed to accept it as the truth. That was the handy thing about lying sometimes; a person would hear what they wanted to hear, turning fiction to fact rather easily. Eve tried not to let out a sigh of relief.

“Well. I’ll go call the authorities then. I suppose you best be getting cleaned up-” Arthur nodded at Eve’s hands before he stepped around her and began to walk towards the kitchen.

Eve glanced down. The blood on her hands was dry now, flaking along her knuckles and clinging to the lines of her palms. It was the blood of a monster, sure, but a woman as well. In the safety of the Turners’ home, it finally hit Eve just what she’d done to survive. She began to hyperventilate as she turned and walked unsteadily to the stairs.

When she made it to the bathroom at the end of the second-floor hallway, she pushed the door open with her elbow before leaning heavily against the sink. She turned the tap on and let her hands soak as the water grew increasingly hotter. Eventually, it began to burn, and she pulled her hands out with a hiss. She let the water drip off of them, her mind wandering to the moment with Oksana, to the memory of the knife sinking into her skin.

It was probably something she should call Kenny about. Probably something she should notify Carolyn about. Instead, Eve called no one, and when her hands were as clean as she could get them, she wandered back to her room dazedly. She had the presence of mind to lock the door and shutter the windows before she collapsed, fully dressed once again, onto the bed.

Sleep was slower to come than the night before. Images flashed through her mind; Oksana’s shape amongst the trees, her body illuminated in the moonlight, Nadia’s blood soaking into the earth. She heard the sounds too: Nadia’s screams, Arthur’s shotgun. Her mind lingered on Oksana’s howl. It was hauntingly beautiful.

When sleep eventually did come, it was shallow and restless. Eve tossed about on the bed, her clothes twisting around her. Her dreams were filled with gnashing teeth and swiping claws. At one point she woke up sweating, believing she could still see a pair of dark eyes glistening in the moonlight.

* * *

“Alright Ms. Polastri, last question, just to clarify: you did _not_ witness the victim’s death, correct? When you left her, she was alive, and when you returned to the scene, she was already dead?”

Eve sighed. “That is correct.”

The police officer had arrived just before lunch. Eve had spent the beginning of the day holed up in her room, stripping to her underwear and trying to get some actual sleep before too much of the day went by. When that didn’t work, she’d paced around her room a bit before coming to a decision. she'd showered, she’d made a phone call, then she’d dressed and gone downstairs, as ready as she could be to face the day ahead.

The police officer’s questions had been going on for over half an hour but they were beginning to get repetitive. The fact of the matter was that the police simply didn’t have much to go off of. A woman wound up dead in a town notorious for strange deaths. Sure, they had made note of the monstrous beast that Arthur Turner had reported shooting at, but that was all commonplace for Blackmoor.

Somewhere in a county police station, there was a filing cabinet filled with incident reports stemming from strange, beastly sightings in Blackmoor, and several unexplained or suspicious deaths. One might _assume_ that were was a monster dwelling in the woods, but no one had ever actually found the thing. Whenever a new incident popped up, officers would simply visit the town, take statements, and add them to the pile.

“I believe that’ll be all then.” The officer who had been questioning Eve was a tall, thin man with black hair and a closely trimmed beard to match. “Thank you for your help, both of you.”

He nodded at Eve and then at Arthur before he saw himself out through the front door. Once he was gone, Arthur sighed heavily.

“Well, that’ll be that then, I suppose. They’ll take it from here, looking for Ms. Kadomtseya’s next of kin and such.”

He seemed lost in thought for a moment and Eve felt a bit guilty for her impending interruption. She cleared her throat.

“Arthur, I’ve decided... after last night, I don't think I can stay in Blackmoor any longer.”

Arthur looked up at her with weary eyes. She didn’t think he’d gotten much sleep after they’d returned to the house the night before.

“Oh? Well, I’d say I’m sorry to hear that but I think it’s likely for the best. Blackmoor is... unkind, and if you aren’t having any luck with your investigation, I don’t suppose there’s much reason to stay.”

Eve nodded. “I’m not. Having luck, I mean. Time to head back to the city and call it a wrap.” She tried not to wince. It had sounded smart in her head but silly when she’d said it out loud. She didn’t want to oversell it.

Arthur just nodded. “Well... when would you like to be leaving then?”

“Today.”

“Will you need a ride someplace?”

Eve shook her head. “No, no, I called work first thing this morning to set something up. I’ll manage.”

“Alright, just let me know when you are wanting to check out and we’ll get you sorted.” Arthur let out another heavy sigh. “I’m going to check on Marion. She didn’t sleep much last night.”

Eve nodded sympathetically. “I can relate.”

Arthur excused himself and padded down the hallway, leaving Eve in the foyer by herself.

She wandered over to the couch and sat down, her thoughts from the night before crawling back into her mind.

She wasn’t satisfied simply knowing _what_ was stalking the town of Blackmoor. So there was a monster in the woods that had a penchant for murdering people in the middle of the night. It was unbelievable and, in the safety of the Turners’ lobby, rather exciting. But there was no motive, no explanation, and that was what Eve had kept coming back to as she’d tossed and turned through the night.

Why had the killing restarted recently? Was it just because of Nadia’s presence in the town, and Oksana’s need to kill the person who knew about her past? Why had she stopped killing as frequently for all those years prior? Why was it only by night? Was there a pattern there?

Why had Konstantin adopted her from the hospital? How had Oksana gotten to the hospital in the first place? What had happened to her family? How had she become the beast?

Could she control the beast, the transformation, or was it involuntary? Did she remember who she was while she was the monster?

The questions in Eve’s mind strayed from those related to her case and Bill’s death to those concerned with the how and why of Oksana’s existence as a whole. It was a rabbit hole that she was falling headfirst into, but she had no desire to be pulled out. In the daylight, when the trees were just trees and the shadows only shadows, the thought of further pursuing the mystery was alarmingly thrilling.

Eve was like a hound who’d caught the scent. Neither hell nor high water could turn her away from the chase. To anyone else, it would be a frightening dissonance: by day, she was the hunter and by night she was the prey. It should have given her pause, made her think, prompted her to evaluate whether continuing really was a good idea. Instead, it offered a flimsy veneer of safety.

It was daytime now so what could go wrong?

* * *

A few hours later, her ride arrived. Eve had packed her suitcase and brought it downstairs. She was waiting in the lobby, sitting on the couch again and chatting idly with Willow. The young girl wasn’t too troubled about Nadia’s death, although she did seem saddened that it had been someone she’d known for a short while. The fact that it had happened only a few doors down, though, seemed hardly worrying to her.

“All my life, people have died in Blackmoor,” she told Eve, shrugging slightly.

Eventually, there came a knock at the door, and Eve rose to answer it, expecting her ride. Instead, she was met with the haughty face of Raymond. He waltzed in without waiting for an invitation, forcing her to back up in order to put as much distance between herself and him as possible.

“Ms. Polastri-” he spotted Willow on the couch nearby, “-and child.”

Willow didn’t offer a reply, she simply watched him from the couch, her eyes narrowing. Raymond chuckled before turning back to Eve.

“I’d like to ask you some questions, given the events of last night. I didn’t get the chance at the time but don’t think I forgot. Let’s begin with how you were the only person present at the time of Ms. Kadomtseya’s death, hmm? Or should we discuss how you broke this town’s curfew and went wandering in the dark one day after Sean McNeil was found dead outside your vehicle? And then Nadia Kadomtseya winds up dead too? Ms. Polastri, you’re beginning to become quite the suspect.”

Eve had never been a violent person but the sight of Raymond, his cold eyes and his evil grin, made her want to punch him in the face. Her fists clenched at the thought.

“I don’t believe I have to answer any of your questions, Raymond. You don’t have any authority, really. You’re a private investigator, not a cop.”

If Raymond was annoyed at her insolence, he didn’t show it beyond a slight twitch at the corner of his eye. “That’s all very true, but it certainly doesn’t look good for you to keep dodging me. I have friends in high places, Ms. Polastri, and if I gather enough evidence I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Are you threatening me? Targetting me?” Eve huffed, fed up. She jabbed her finger at him. “You should be investigating what is happening in this town, not following me around and launching accusations at me. A woman is _dead_. Murdered right down the street-”

Raymond didn’t shy away from Eve’s aggression. He seemed to feed on it, stepping closer to her. “What happened last night? I know you were there. You can’t deny that you saw _something_.”

“A big, black beast running through the woods!” Eve shouted in his face. “What do you think Arthur Turner was shooting at? Pheasants?”

Raymond looked at her disbelievingly. “First the townsfolk, now you. Everyone keeps mentioning a beast in the night, but you can’t honestly expect me to-”

A car horn honked out front.

“That’s for me,” Eve interrupted, immediately turning and reaching for her suitcase. “I’m leaving this town. Consider the investigation all yours, Raymond.”

There was a delicious moment of silence where Raymond seemed genuinely taken aback by Eve’s sudden departure. Eve took advantage of it to turn to Willow, who was still watching shrewdly from the couch.

“Willow, will you say goodbye to the others for me? I’m sorry to run out, but it’s a long way back to the city and I’d like to get back home.”

Willow nodded. “I can do that.” She paused for a moment, then added, “And thank you... for talking with me so much. You’re a very nice lady.”

Eve smiled at her. “Thank you, Willow. You’re a very nice young lady too.”

She turned and began to make for the door when she felt Raymond’s meaty hand close around her wrist. She felt her heart leap into her throat. Not that he could do anything, really, at that moment, but just the proximity to him, the physical touch, was enough to send her body into its fight-or-flight response. She turned to yell at him, but he was quicker.

“Do drive safely.” His voice was falsely sweet. It made Eve’s skin crawl. He released her wrist before she could answer, and she jerked her arm back before turning and continuing to the door.

She didn’t look back as she stepped out of the Turners’ house and into Blackmoor’s main street. Her ride, a small red Fiat, was waiting for her out front. She hurriedly threw her suitcase in the back before climbing into the passenger seat and shutting the door behind her.

“Drive, please.”

“Well, hello to you too.”

Eve turned and registered for the first time who was sitting in the driver’s seat next to her: her friend and coworker, Elena, was looking at her with one eyebrow raised and the hint of a smile on her lips.

“Elena! Fuck, I’m happy to see you." All thoughts of Raymond drained from her mind, replaced with relief and contentment at seeing a familiar face. "I didn't know you were going to be the one picking me up.”

“Happy to see you too, although I expected you to be out here a little longer than two days, Eve.”

“It’s... complicated,” Eve replied.

“That’s not suspicious at all. Well, you can tell me about it on the drive, we’ve got a couple of hours anyway.” Elena put the car into drive and began to head south out of Blackmoor. At the edge of town, they passed a police car pulled off the side of the road. Eve resisted the urge to look back at the place they were investigating. She'd enough of it up close the night before.

“About that,” Eve paused for a moment before she continued, “I’m not heading back to London, Elena. I need you to drop me off somewhere else.”

Elena glanced at Eve in surprise before turning back to the road. “Eve, I drove several hours to come pick you up and take you back to HQ and now you’re telling me I'm actually just chauffeuring you someplace else? Where the hell am I taking you?”

“In a little while, you’re gonna see a dirt road that heads to the right, into the woods, while the main road goes left. I need you to take the dirt road.”

“You’re being very cryptic, Eve. Kenny told me about the campground. Are you sure you shouldn’t be heading back to the city?”

Eve shook her head. “I’m making progress, Elena. I know who killed Bill and why-”

“Eve, that’s great! That’s what you came here for-”

“Right, but it’s not that simple, I need to-”

“Of course it isn’t.” Elena sighed. “I have a feeling that I’m not going to like whatever it is that you’re up to.”

Eve gave a weak shrug. “I can’t help it, I need to know more.”

“Right,” Elena replied, dragging the word out longer than was necessary.

A few seconds passed in silence. Eve looked out the window. They had left Blackmoor behind and were entering the woods. The trees were benevolent, illuminated by the early afternoon sun. It was hard to believe them capable of harbouring Oksana’s monster. Eve wondered what they’d seen in all their years bordering Blackmoor. What secrets did the trees have that would help her understand?

Elena’s voice pulled her out of her musings. “Could you at least explain what’s going on then? For my sake, since I drove all the way out here and I’m obviously curious, but also because when I arrive back in London I’ll be the one who has to explain to Carolyn why you aren’t with me.”

Eve looked over at Elena. “It’s going to sound insane.”

“By all means, try me.”

Eve took a deep breath. “I found the killer. She’s... nearby. But she’s not- it’s hard to explain but I don’t think she’s entirely to blame. Or she is, but it’s complicated. And I have no idea her motive, but I intend to find out, and that’s why I’m not going back to London yet.”

“Eve, that was without a doubt the vaguest, most ambiguous explanation you could’ve given me," Elena told her, her voice a mixture of amusement and impatience.

“I don’t have time to explain the entire thing, plus if I did you’d probably drag me back to London- oh, there’s the dirt road!”

Eve flung her arm across the console and into Elena’s field of vision. She flinched out of the way as she began to turn the car off the highway.

“This better not damage my darling Betsy,” she mumbled.

“Betsy, really?”

“You shut up or I’ll drop you off right here. So, you were saying?”

As they pulled onto the dirt roadway, the forest closed in tighter around them. The trees hugged the road, their semi-naked branches obscuring the sky overhead.

“You promise not to call me crazy or take me back to London, no matter what?”

Elena sighed in exasperation. “If that’s what it takes for you to stop being so cryptic then yes, fine.”

Eve glanced out the window at the forest around them. It wouldn’t be long before they arrived at the manor.

“Well... you’re taking me to Blackmoor Manor, where an older man and his niece have been living for fifteen years. The man is cranky and short-tempered and rude. His niece is young and beautiful and strange-”

“Sounds like you’ve got a thing for the niece already-”

“-Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Right, sorry, shutting up,” Elena replied, smirking. She made a little gesture with her hand as if giving Eve permission to continue. Eve rolled her eyes.

“Now, these strange deaths in Blackmoor started fifteen years ago, and the man, Konstantin, and his niece, Villanelle, were suspected but-”

“’Konstantin’ and ‘Villanelle’ aren’t your typical English na- _ouch!_ ” Elena yelped as Eve reached over and pinched her arm.

“As I was saying, they were suspected but there was never any proof that they had anything to do with it. Then the deaths started becoming less frequent and the town sort of... relaxed, I suppose. Anyway, the point is, I found out that Konstantin and Villanelle actually are involved. Directly involved, really...,” Eve trailed off as Elena shot her a serious look.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to tell me that Konstantin and Villanelle have been killing people for years...”

Eve winced. “Just, ah, just Villanelle actually. At least that’s what I’ve gathered from-”

“Are you fucking _serious,_ Eve?! And I’m driving you to their _house_?!” Elena pressed the brakes for emphasis, slowing them to a halt in the middle of the road. She turned in her seat to continue glaring at Eve. “Would this make me complicit in your death, do you think?”

Eve rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that, Elena. She’s not going to kill me.”

Elena scoffed. “I find that hard to believe.”

Eve couldn't explain why she felt the way she did. Villanelle- or Oksana- had tried to kill her the night before, hadn’t she? She’d chased Eve down the street and had been about to pounce when Arthur had shown up. Except that there had been that moment, only minutes earlier, when the beast hadn’t harmed her at all. Sure, she’d been a frightening display of teeth and malice, but she hadn’t actually _done_ anything. And then Eve had said her name, her real name, and it had affected her somehow.

It had been Eve who had struck the first blow, really. She rubbed her hands together at the memory of the blood that had coated them.

“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?” Elena asked, her voice resigned.

Eve looked over at her friend and shook her head. “No.”

Elena huffed in frustration before she began driving forwards again. “Fine. But when you die, I will give your eulogy, and I will be sure to emphasize how completely moronic you were in your final days.”

Eve let out a small laugh. “Alright.”

“’And despite the warnings of those closest to her, Eve couldn’t be swayed from her work. The pursuit of knowledge was her greatest passion and she did it under the guise of making the world a safer place. Those of us who knew her best, however, know it really was just her way of exercising her freedom to be a complete and total dunce.’”

Eve leaned over and slapped Elena across the arm, causing the other woman to laugh as she leaned away from the assault.

“You can't say that, it's too harsh.”

“You don’t get to have a say, Eve!” Elena shot back. “You’ll be too busy being dead.”

Ahead of them, the forest opened up, revealing Blackmoor Manor in all its imposing glory. Eve felt her stomach knot with apprehension, and yet, at the same time, her heart jumped with excitement.

“Shit,” Elena murmured. “That’s where you’re going?”

“Yup.”

“Well... watch out for ghosts.”

The car made its way across the wide, open clearing. Eve’s eyes stayed trained on the manor itself. It was true, it could easily be haunted, but she was preparing herself to face an entirely different kind of monster inside.

* * *

The sound of the knocker pulled Villanelle from her book. She tossed it aside, not even bothering to mark the page. She’d read it countless times before. She made a mental note to buy new books the next time she visited the city.

She rose from the chaise lounge where she had been sitting and began to make her way to the door. She’d been in a parlour room at the back of the mansion, its windows looking out onto the forest behind the house. She had no idea who might be calling. Konstantin wouldn’t knock, he would just let himself in through the side door whenever he returned.

He was angry with her for killing Nadia so he’d said he needed to be away from her for a while. Angry, angry, angry. He always seemed angry lately. But what did he expect? Nadia had been found, and with her came Villanelle’s chance to finally be rid of her past. If she didn’t take that opportunity, it would follow her for the rest of her life.

She rolled her shoulders instinctively at the thought of her past and then winced as pain lanced through her. That bastard from town had shot her. He had actually shot her. No one had shot at her in years. She wasn’t used to the pain, to the throbbing and stinging as her body stitched itself back together.

She was glad to have the healing ability that had come with her affliction, but it didn’t mean it hurt any less when someone blasted a shotgun slug into her arm.

The other, smaller wound ached as well, but that one she thought of rather fondly. Who would have thought that the tiny Asian woman with amazing hair would have had the courage to stab her in the belly? The wound had already closed, the scar pink and puffy. In a few days, it would be gone and the press of Eve's knife would be nothing but a distant memory.

Villanelle sighed regretfully. The healing ability did have its downsides. There were some scars she would’ve rather liked to keep.

Entering the foyer, she took a quick glance through the large windows that bracketed the door. She couldn’t see any people, but she noticed a small red car parked in the cul-de-sac that marked the end of the driveway. There appeared to be someone in the driver’s seat, but they were too far away and obscured by the windows to make out any details.

As she reached the door, she unlocked it and pulled it back slowly and grandly. To her surprise and delight, she found Eve Polastri standing there. She was wearing another turtleneck under her long navy jacket. Her hair was down. She looked resolute, if a bit nervous, with a small battered suitcase at her side.

Villanelle opened her mouth to greet her, but Eve spoke first. “Is Konstantin home?”

Villanelle frowned. It annoyed her how much energy Eve had had to spend on Konstantin during her previous visit. Villanelle did not like to share. “No, he is not. Come back later.”

She began to shut the door. Eve stepped forward and shot her hand out to stop it. “Actually, I’m here for you.”

Villanelle arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Eve didn’t even hide the way her eyes slide across Villanelle’s shoulders. She was clearly looking for the damage from the shotgun. Her eyes found nothing, of course. Villanelle was wearing a long-sleeved sweater that covered more skin than usual. She’d found it a bit oppressive but she was glad of it now. It wouldn’t do her well for Eve to see the bandages over her wound, no matter how much it had healed in the short time since their encounter.

She wasn’t sure just how much Nadia had told Eve before she’d arrived. She could remember seeing them standing together at the stone wall, illuminated by moonlight. She could remember seeing Nadia, knowing that was the one she needed to hunt. The rest of her memories were foggy at best, except for the pain, of course.

“Did you hear about the death in Blackmoor last night?” Eve asked her, her hand still pressed flat against the wood of the door.

“I did not,” Villanelle replied calmly.

“Hm. Nadia Kadomtseya died. Did you know her?”

The tone of Eve's voice made it clear that she knew at least some of Villanelle's history. How much, she couldn't be sure, but she was eager to find out. It was a thrilling development and Villanelle relished the game. “The name doesn’t sound familiar, no."

“Hm.” Eve hummed again. “And what about the name ‘Oksana’?”

Eve looked as though she was anticipating a reaction; a twitch, a flinch, a violent recoil. Instead, Villanelle’s mouth split into a grin.

“Maybe you’d better come inside,” she offered, standing back from the door in an obvious sign of welcome. The game was becoming more interesting by the second.

Eve’s eyes roamed over her, lingering on her face, trying to decipher what she could. Villanelle wondered what she found.

“Yes, I think I better do just that,” Eve replied, her voice steady. She wrapped her fingers around the handle of her suitcase and followed Villanelle into the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, an unsolicited update on my life: i started a new job this week (yeehaw) which is why the update was late. i am not used to the 9-5 life and was not prepped for the fact that i came home exhausted erry single day. is this what adulthood is? anyway excuse the existential crisis i just wanted y'all to know that this fic is NOT and NEVER WILL BE abandoned (don't look at my other wip ok shh), it just might be longer between the next couple updates.
> 
> thank y’all for understanding, and for the support and love you keep giving this fic <3


	5. another way to get to know you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> strap in for another long one
> 
> also, guess who found a way to sexualize frittata

The Main Hall of Blackmoor Manor was just as grand and impressive as Eve remembered. Natural light lit up the room in certain places; rectangular bars of sunlight making geometric patterns along the floor. They gave Eve the impression of the bars on a jail cell. The ornate chandelier above them took care of lighting the rest of the room. The candelabra still burned at the altar on the staircase landing.

Villanelle wandered back towards the imperial staircase and sat herself down on the third step from the bottom. Her hair was down and she was in a pair of flowing grey pants and a navy blue blouse. As she leaned forwards and put her elbows on her knees, Eve saw that the shirt had a plunging neckline, showing off the woman’s pale skin underneath. In her nylon jacket and plain turtleneck, Eve felt somehow underdressed. Not that it mattered. Her intention was not to impress the other woman.

Some part of her hoped that she might, though.

In order to prevent herself from further pursuing those treacherous thoughts, she cleared her throat and spoke loudly across the foyer. “Nadia told me everything, Oksana.”

At the other end of the room, Villanelle quirked an eyebrow and smiled. “I prefer ‘Villanelle’.”

Eve gave a subtle nod at the woman’s preference in her name before she continued, “I know you’re the one who’s been killing the people in Blackmoor. I know that Konstantin adopted you and you moved here from Russia fifteen years ago. I know you met Nadia at the hospital where you both lived as children.”

Villanelle cocked her head. Eve thought she looked rather amused at the possibility of being found out. “It’s all very close to being true, but I wouldn’t necessarily call it ‘the truth’.”

Eve indulged her. “Oh?”

The other woman gave an exaggerated sigh. “Eve, please, I am not really the killer, it’s a bit more nuanced than that. Konstantin and I didn’t move here so much as he brought me, and I would not say I lived at the hospital so much as I was held there.”

Eve had to fight off the urge to smile. Inside, she felt a rising confidence. She had been right that there was more to the story of Oksana’s monster. She just needed to find a way to figure the truth out.

“So I have it a bit wrong then,” she conceded. “Care to explain to me the truth of it?”

Across the hall from her, Villanelle looked up to the ceiling in mock-contemplation. “No,” she replied simply, turning her amused gaze back to Eve. “I don’t think I will.”

Eve held back a sigh of frustration. She felt like she was speaking with a petulant child. She had envisioned Villanelle giving her everything right away, eager to tell someone the truth of it all. Clearly, she’d been foolish to think such a thing. “Why not? If what I know is a lie, don’t you want me to know the truth?”

“I don’t really care either way,” Villanelle answered, unconcerned. “It is exciting that you’ve come this far, though.” Her eyes shone with enthusiasm as her lips pulled into a sly grin.

Eve let out a huff, her exasperation getting the better of her. She had suffered a terrifying ordeal in the woods, she had witnessed a murder, and she had had to endure Raymond’s company, all in the effort of getting to this moment. Now, she was being stone-walled. “So you’re not going to tell me anything? I know it was you last night. How did that even happen to you? How did you become that-”

“-that monster?” Villanelle interrupted, continuing with a forceful voice, “I am afraid I don’t feel like I need to tell you much of anything, Eve. You show up here unannounced, saying you know my life story. You want answers, and then you want to feel good about yourself and leave. I saw your ride waiting outside.”

Eve crossed her arms in annoyance. “My ride is gone actually. I told her to leave once I came inside the manor.”

Villanelle’s eyebrow raised in mild surprise. “Really?” She leaned to the side and looked past Eve and out the window. Eve knew that Elena had in fact gone. Those were her instructions, much as Elena had protested.

“Wow,” Villanelle said as she saw that Eve had been telling the truth. Eve watched as her lips formed around the word with exaggeration. “So now you are here with someone you are accusing of being a murderer and you have no way out? Are you stupid?”

Eve shrugged, emboldened by her irritation. “Maybe. Are you going to kill me?”

Villanelle let out a shrill, high-pitched laugh that made Eve want to step back. “No, Eve, I am not going to kill you. I am not the murderer you think I am, I am just... a monster on the loose, sometimes.” Her eyes were unfocused for a moment, and Eve wondered what she was thinking of. A particular kill? The previous night? The feeling of blood on her hands?

“But you wanted Nadia dead, clearly,” Eve countered, despite her better judgment. Why was she arguing with someone who had just so politely offered _not_ to kill her even though they could?

“Oh, well. Her I wanted dead, yes.”

The brazenness of the statement, the complete lack of remorse, had a surprising effect on Eve. It made her angry. It reminded her why she had come to Blackmoor in the first place.

“You killed my best friend,” she murmured. The way Villanelle frowned left no doubt that she’d heard, even from across the room.

“The man from the campground?” Villanelle looked thoughtful for a moment before she did her best attempt at looking apologetic. “I did not remember that until the next day. Konstantin told me. He was rather upset seeing as he is the one who most frequently has to clean up my messes.” She paused a moment as some idea sunk in. “Is that why you’re here? Because of the man I killed last month?”

“Bill,” Eve ground out between clenched teeth. “You just admitted it- you are killing these people.”

Villanelle sighed, already forgetting her previous question and moving to address Eve’s comment. “I said that it’s more nuanced than that, Eve. It may come as a shock to you to learn that I don’t have control of myself when I am... like _that_.”

Eve felt her mouth drop open in astonishment. “You can’t control it?” She felt fear stirring in her belly like a beast waking from its slumber.

Villanelle shook her head and shrugged before leaning backwards, planting her elbows on the stair behind her. She looked relaxed and unbothered. Eve felt quite the opposite.

“I can direct it’s motive,” Villanelle explained, nonchalant as ever, as if she weren’t talking about the monster that had been terrorizing Blackmoor for years. “But otherwise it’s all rather... feral.” She shrugged as if she were discussing the weather.

Eve should’ve asked a million other questions. How did the beast come out? How long had she been this way? Instead, she asked, “How have you not massacred this entire town?” Her voice was incredulous. Villanelle smiled at the sound of it.

“Luck, I suppose? It only happens once a month, on the nights of the fullest moon. Otherwise, I’m completely normal.” She winked at Eve.

Eve ignored the gesture, and the ember of heat it provoked in her chest. It made her feel toyed with, like a ball of yarn swatted at by a kitten. Although, in this situation, she supposed Villanelle was more of a lion. “You can’t control the transformation either, then?”

Villanelle shook her head.

Eve was silent a moment as she let the information settle on her mind. Then, something occurred to her. “Why are you telling me all this so freely? Didn't you just say that you weren't inclined to tell me anything at all?”

Villanelle stood up from the stairs and sauntered over to Eve, her hands in the pockets of her trousers. “Well, if I'm being completely honest, it is a bit fun to have someone know this much, for a change.”

As she began to close the distance between then, Eve retorted, “Nadia knew a lot and look where that got her.”

Villanelle shook her head, continuing to step forwards. The bars of sunlight drew their patterns across her body as she walked; light and shadow, light and shadow. “Nadia knew some things, but not everything. You’re not going to end up like her.”

As she said it, she came to a stop only a step or two away from Eve. Her face was in shadow, her collarbones illuminated by the sun. They were pale, bright, and distracting. Eve looked up at Villanelle’s eyes when she answered her. “If that's the case, are you going to tell me everything?”

Villanelle looked down at her. “No.”

They stared at each other in silence. Eve refused to shy away. Villanelle’s eyes intimidated her, but they held her captive too. They were nothing like the feral eyes she’d seen the night before, but she wouldn’t exactly call them human either.

She took a moment to think. What was she doing there, confronting the other woman? What did she hope to gain? What did she want, really?

The answer was easy, although it wasn’t exactly smart.

“I’d like to stay,” Eve announced. She was surprised at the steadiness of her voice.

“What?” Villanelle genuinely looked taken aback, although she recovered quickly enough.

“I’d like to stay here at the manor for a month,” Eve clarified. “You say you can’t control it and you say it happens around a full moon. Unless you are going to... transform-” Eve had to fight not to stumble over the word. She could hardly believe what she was suggesting. “-tonight, then the next one will be a month away. I’d like to stay until then to see it for myself. Who knows what I might learn in the meantime.”

Villanelle searched for a response and Eve childishly felt victorious for having left the other woman speechless. “You really are stupid,” Villanelle muttered after a time before she added, “No, I won’t be changing tonight.”

“It’s settled then.” Eve nodded once as if they’d made a pact. “Maybe you could show me where I’ll be staying, then? I’d like to get this put away.” With that, she slapped the top of her suitcase.

Villanelle’s eyes didn’t flicker from hers. They were calculating but otherwise unreadable. Eventually, she let out another tinkling laugh. “Come, I’ll show you.” She turned and began to lead Eve towards the staircase. “Oh, this will be fun. Konstantin is going to be _so_ pissed.”

Behind her, Eve grabbed the handle of her bag and began to follow her new host through the foyer. As she stepped out of the reach of the windows and into the darkness of the back of the hall, she had a feeling as though she were leaving the real world behind. Rather than dwell on it, she hoisted her suitcase and began to climb the staircase.

Finally registering Villanelle’s comment, Eve spoke up, “Where is Konstantin anyway?”

Villanelle looked over her shoulder at her, one hand gliding along the bannister. “Away. He is upset with me. I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”

Eve took the explanation without further comment, accepting whatever strange relationship Villanelle had with her adoptive ‘uncle’. As they reached the landing partway up the stairs, Eve finally got a closer look at the photo resting there. It was a picture taken of a woman, with short, curly brown hair and a motherly smile. Behind her eyes, though, there was nothing, not even a drop of compassion. It could’ve been a trick of the light or maybe the age of the photograph, but Eve didn’t think so. Whoever the woman was, she was cold and empty.

“Who’s in this photo?”

Villanelle didn’t turn this time, didn’t even acknowledge Eve’s question. She merely continued walking as though she hadn’t heard and began to climb the righthand staircase of the divided flight. “You’ll be staying in the East Wing.”

Eve rolled her eyes but otherwise didn’t make a fuss about the photograph. “Great, what’s in the East Wing?”

They reached the top of the staircase and turned right, following the bannister as it curled back towards the front of the house. “Your room and Konstantin’s room,” Villanelle replied simply. Before Eve could comment, she added, “Konstantin snores, by the way.”

“You’re just saying that to annoy me,” Eve retorted. They turned to the left, away from the main entryway and down the hallway of the East Wing.

Villanelle laughed again. “No, really, he snores.”

Eve sighed in resignation and continued to follow Villanelle down the hall. The walls were lined with dark wood, similar to those of the first floor. The odd painting hung in the empty spaces along the wall but overall it was a much less decorated part of the manor compared to the foyer.

There were two doorways on the right and two doorways on the left, staggered so as to never be directly facing each other. Villanelle led Eve into the second doorway on the right. Once inside the room, Villanelle stepped to the side and gestured grandly at the space in front of them. “Your room.”

Eve walked in and had to fight not to gasp.

The bedroom was lavish. It had a queen-sized four-poster bed against the righthand wall, with beautifully carved night tables on each side. The bed itself had far too many pillows; Eve already knew they would end up scattered across her floor every night. An alcove on the far wall held a bumped-out window seat with three windows facing the front of the manor, giving the viewer a stunning view of both the clearing and the forest beyond. On the lefthand wall was a small vanity with a mirror and a tall wardrobe. In one corner sat a little wooden chair with a red cushion. It’s maroon upholstery matched nearly everything else in the room; from the window seat to the duvet on the bed to the drapes hanging from the tops of the bedposts, maroon was everywhere. It was too dark to be the colour of freshly spilled blood, and yet the comparison came to Eve’s mind all the same. Not to mention that, if this was a guest room, she couldn’t imagine how luxurious Villanelle’s room might be.

“This room is beautiful,” she breathed out, quietly impressed by the space around her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Villanelle preen at the compliment. “Thank you, Eve.”

“How did you get this ready in time? I can’t imagine you get much company.” Eve resisted the urge to flashback to their first conversation in the manor, when Villanelle had brushed her fingers along her wrist.

_I do find it quite lonely sometimes..._

Eve ignored the memory and looked to Villanelle expectantly.

Villanelle shrugged. “I clean the rooms sometimes, I know it is hard to believe but, well, being alone in a mansion gives one plenty of free time. Some days I clean, some days I read, and some days, well...”

She took a predatory step towards Eve, who found it hard to stay rooted where she was. Logically, she knew this was Villanelle’s game. She’d seen a bit of it before, the flirtation, the inability to take things seriously. But another part of Eve still remembered the night before, the real beast behind those eyes and the ease with which she’d ripped Nadia apart.

Still, she stood her ground and gave Villanelle her best unaffected stare. Villanelle broke into a grin when she saw Eve unbothered, then proceeded to glance around the room. “Anyway. I happened to clean this yesterday. How lucky.”

“How lucky,” Eve repeated. “I’m going to get settled now if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” Villanelle nodded, stepping back towards the door. “Your bathroom is just down the hall. Let’s say... dinner at 7?”

Eve started, taken aback. “Oh-”

“If you’re staying here, Eve, I have to feed you. It would be strange for you to just steal from my fridge in the dead of night. Surely this occurred to you when you made your offer? No?” Villanelle smirked. “Well, dinner at 7 anyway.”

With that, she turned and glided out into the hallway. Eve could hear her humming as she retreated down the hall.

Before unpacking or exploring her room further, she checked her phone. It was shortly after 3 pm. She had nearly four hours to kill before dinner, and a month in Blackmoor Manor beyond that. Her earlier confidence wavered as she felt an enormity of consequences settle over her.

What had she gotten herself into?

* * *

“What is this?”

Eve didn’t realize how rude it sounded until the question had fallen tactlessly out of her mouth and into the empty air between them. She flushed with embarrassment at her lack of manners but Villanelle didn’t seem too perturbed. Her back was to Eve as she dished more food from the stovetop.

“It’s frittata.”

Blackmoor’s kitchen was a spacious, living thing. Living because evidence of Villanelle’s presence lingered everywhere, in misplaced pots and uncleaned messes (apparently being alone in a mansion didn’t mean you always cleaned the _kitchen_ )and scorch marks from failed cooking experiments. Spacious because it took up what Eve guessed to be nearly half of the first floor of the west wing, and the effect was only heightened by the comically small table at which she now sat. The table was alone in the middle of the grand room; a small, wooden thing with four chairs and countless scratches in its surface from errantly-placed knives.

Or claws, Eve supposed. She wondered idly if child-monster Oksana had ever eaten at this table.

She wondered a great many things, of course. So far she hadn’t learned much in her first few hours at Blackmoor. Between getting settled and coming down for dinner, she had done a little exploring around the manor, but all she had really discovered was the layout, the floorplan, and a few things of interest. No horrifying secrets lurking in dimly lit corners.

First of all, she had found that she did in fact share the east wing with Konstantin, although his bedroom was quite a distance from hers. The hallway turned left beyond her room and travelled along the side of the house. Large, east-facing windows lined the wall, although at that hour the sun had already begun sinking to the west and so they hadn’t done much to light up the corridor ahead of her. Once it had become clear that Konstantin’s room lay at the end of that hall, Eve hadn’t continued further. Of course, she wanted to know more about him, but snooping around on her very first day didn’t seem like the best idea. Leastwise, not while it remained daylight hours and Villanelle was still prowling about. Maybe she could tiptoe back to investigate after dark.

It was nice to know that she had nothing to fear but admonishment if she were to be caught. She took comfort in the thought that Villanelle would be remaining human for several more weeks.

From the east wing, she’d crossed over to the west wing, and had quickly found that its second floor was dedicated entirely to Villanelle’s chambers. She had followed a long hallway similar to her own, only this one had had no rooms branching off of it and no windows to shed light. The occasional alcove held a decorative table but otherwise, the hallway was sparse. Eve had turned right to follow it and had found herself walking into an enormous, open bedroom. If she had thought her room was lavish, it had been nothing compared to Villanelle’s.

She had little time to explore, or to even really take in her surroundings, as Villanelle had waltzed out of her ensuite bathroom wearing nothing but a bathrobe, her hair wet as she towelled it off while she walked. By some miracle, she hadn’t noticed Eve standing in the open doorway. The room was big and the bathroom was situated in the opposite corner from Eve. Not to mention that Villanelle’s enormous Alaskan king bed stood between them.

Later, when Eve was alone and digesting the events of the day, she would think about that bed. An Alaskan king was nine feet long by nine feet wide. A bed that size would simply swallow her whole. She could lay in it and never even know if someone else were there. She couldn’t imagine sleeping in it alone.

Back in Villanelle’s bedroom, it had taken Eve a few moments to realize that she was still staring at the woman across from her despite every second bringing her closer to being spotted. She simply found it hard to pull her gaze away; Villanelle was the object of her interest, her insatiable curiosity. Some part of her longed to remain, to observe and tease out whatever meaning she could from something as small as the way the other woman dried her hair.

Rationality kicked in a second later, as Villanelle turned towards where Eve stood frozen, and Eve finally came to herself and began backing out of the room as silently as possible. She didn’t think she’d been seen. It turned out that her desire to learn did not outweigh the risk and embarrassment of being caught, especially being caught watching Villanelle in the state she was in. No doubt she was about to change out of her robe and into something elegant and impractical. Eve would gain nothing from observing that.

Nothing but the knowledge of Villanelle’s body. She had seen her as the beast, rough and dangerous and fearsome. Was the woman just the same? Or was she softer in her human form, made of fewer jagged edges, more gentle curves...

Taken aback at the train of her own thoughts, Eve had shaken her head, turned on her heel, and silently walked back down the hallway. She had weeks to learn more about Villanelle. Not everything had to happen all at once.

From the second floor, she’d descended the grand staircase and begun exploring the main floor. She hadn’t stopped to look again at the photo of the woman on the altar. She would get no further answers that day, and the woman’s eyes made her uncomfortable in a way that even Villanelle’s lupine stare the night before couldn’t match.

At the bottom of the staircase, Eve had turned left and decided to follow the same pattern as she had on the second floor: east wing then west wing. The east wing had a similar long hallway at the front of the house and so Eve had set off in that direction. This hallway, unlike the one on the second floor, hugged the wall and was lined with large windows. Here, the sun did serve to add some more light, and it illuminated a long corridor punctuated by two open doorways on the lefthand side that led to a large space beyond. Eve entered the first one she came to and found herself in what could only be called a gallery. She couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her lips.

Artwork populated the entire room. It was as though Eve had walked out of the manor and into a museum. Statues and clay works of various sizes sat on pedestals while paintings adorned the walls. Objects of all kinds sat in glass boxes, made to ogled but never touched. Lights were mounted in strategic spots along the walls and ceiling so as to give each art piece its proper spotlight. A regal red carpet lined the floor in a gridlike pattern, clearly delineating where to walk so as not to disturb the perfect arrangement of the room. Eve took it all in from the doorway, feeling as though she disturbed the room merely by virtue of standing there.

In the far corner of the gallery opposite her, she saw that a small space had been set aside for another room. Walls of dark wood separated it from the rest of the museum-like space around it. Beyond the simple door, which stood halfway open, Eve could just make out a desk and a bookcase. She guessed it was an office of some kind, although she wouldn’t know unless she explored the room further. Still, she held her ground.

The gallery was incredible, and not at all what she’d expected to find. Something about it felt hallowed. She had decided then that she wouldn’t go further without Villanelle to guide her.

Having completed the east wing, Eve had turned back the way she’d come and crossed the main hall to begin exploring the first floor of the west wing. Directly ahead of her stood the entryway to the kitchen, but she’d be going there later for dinner, so she had turned right instead, passed under the western flight of the divided staircase, and followed a narrow hallway that led to the back of the manor. There, she’d found the parlour room. It was like a cross between a sitting room and a library, with large windows that faced out onto the forest behind Blackmoor, a grand piano near the lefthand wall, a chaise lounge and other couches dotting its open area, and massive floor-to-ceiling bookcases along the righthand wall. A small break in that wall allowed one to travel from the parlour room to the gallery, but Eve had already decided she wouldn’t venture there again without her host.

To her surprise, she had ended up spending the rest of the afternoon in the parlour room. She had never been a particularly avid fiction reader, preferring real-life accounts of criminal investigations and unsolved murders. And yet, when she’d glanced at the chaise lounge she’d spotted a worn paperback novel sitting there, presumably tossed aside by Villanelle sometime earlier. It was thin, probably little more than a hundred pages.

Eve had restrained her curiosity for long enough, refusing to snoop in places that had begged to be investigated. This, however, was harmless, wasn’t it?

She had picked up the book and taken it over to a smaller chair by the window. She eyed its cover. _The Island of Doctor Moreau._ Something about it tickled at her memory but otherwise, it wasn’t familiar to her. The cover gave nothing away about the story, other than the obvious presence of an island. Its pages were dogeared and its back had seen better days after being bent and re-rebent with each reading. Eve thumbed to the first page and began to read.

She was still reading when Villanelle had walked in two hours later.

“So this is where you’ve been,” she’d said, a playful smile on her lips. Eve had been surprised to find that what was she was wearing was neither impractical nor horribly elegant. She was wearing dark jeans and a green v-neck with a thin floral-patterned bomber jacket over top. This Villanelle was young and beautiful and modest. Eve couldn’t help but offer a small smile back.

“Why don’t I show you the kitchen? Dinner is almost ready.”

And that was how Eve had wound up seated at the wooden table, glancing at the cuts in the wood and wondering whether they’d been made by knives or by claws. She’d spent an afternoon in Blackmoor and she hadn’t learned much, but somehow she still felt accomplished. Hell, she’d even made a decent dent in that book. She glanced up from the table and once again took in the room around her.

On the wall behind her were several cabinets and storage spaces for cooking utensils, as well as a deep, double-basined sink for washing. To her left, Villanelle hovered over the stove, which resided next to a long wooden counter presumably used for all manner of food preparation. Where the counter ended on the left, there was a small hallway that led to a door outside. Eve wasn’t sure where it opened out to. Across the room from her was a refrigerator and a door marked ‘pantry’. To her right was the wide entryway that led back out to the main hall. And, turning her attention back to the sight in front of her, on the scratch-marked wooden table there sat a plate of warm frittata.

“Isn’t this breakfast food?” Eve asked and again winced at her own impoliteness. She sounded a bit ungrateful to her own ears. Still, Villanelle didn’t seem bothered.

Turning from the stovetop with her own plate full of food- nearly two thirds fuller than Eve’s own, she noticed- Villanelle came over to the table and sat down eagerly. “It is a breakfast food, yes. But it is also my favourite.”

Eve chuckled. “Do you make all your guests your favourite food on the first night?”

Villanelle was already shovelling food into her mouth, but she stopped chewing and looked up at Eve with surprisingly honest eyes. “No.” There was a pause and then, “It is also the meal I know how to make best.”

There were too many things Eve wanted to unpack; what did Villanelle usually make for herself versus for guests? Why was frittata her favourite? Where had she learned to make it? However, the food smelled delicious, so Eve set her curious thoughts aside yet again and reached for her fork instead.

“Well, it smells wonderful,” she offered graciously. She was starting to remember her table manners.

“It is not for smelling,” Villanelle replied, speaking around another mouthful of food. “It’s for eating.”

Eve suppressed a laugh as she brought her fork to her lips. She took a bite and found her eyes closing involuntarily. It was _good._ Really good. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected but Villanelle clearly knew what she was doing with the meal. She could give Niko a run for his money with this dish. And she had to admit that Villanelle was right: why smell something this good when you could taste it? Why stop at odour, which was nice, when you could taste, which had the capacity to stray into the hedonistic. People didn’t smell things and achieve the bliss akin to a good orgasm. That only happened with good food, which brought moans to peoples’ lips the same way that good sex did.

So yes, Eve almost moaned out loud at the taste of the food on her tongue. She caught herself only at the last second, and she glanced hurriedly at Villanelle to see if she’d noticed. She apparently had not, she was too engulfed with her own plate of food to notice Eve’s reaction across from her.

Eve composed herself and took another forkful. As she did, she watched the woman across from her in an attempt to glean some kind of information about her over dinner. She also did it to distract herself from the food, lest she almost embarrass herself again.

What she learned, between errant thoughts about fucking delicious frittata, was that Villanelle ate in a way not dissimilar from a guarding dog. Her elbows splayed outwards and she hunched protectively over her plate. It could’ve been ugly, probably would be, to most people, and yet Eve didn’t find it that unseemly. After all, she knew about the wolfish nature that hid within the woman.

As she ate and watched, Eve's eyes were drawn from Villanelle’s overall stature down to her mouth. She wondered if she would catch a glimpse of those canine-like fangs when Villanelle took a bite of her food. She didn’t. She only ever noticed her lips; soft and full and nothing like a monster’s. The sight did not pair well at all with the mouth-watering food as Eve began to associate deliciousness with the sight of Villanelle’s mouth, and what had she just been thinking about taste being akin to good sex? She felt like she was staring now, and she needed to stop, needed to focus on something other than the topic of tastes.

Villanelle’s voice jolted her out of her daydream. “Eve, you’re staring.”

“Sorry, I-” She couldn’t really explain her way out of that one so she simply decided deflection was her best response. “So, um, said you don't know when Konstantin will be back?"

Villanelle’s lips twitched into a smile at the sight of Eve’s stammering, before she shrugged and answered, “No. He does this, sometimes, when he is angry with me. He leaves for a while-” she jabbed at the crumbs on her plate with her fork, “-must be nice to just _go_. Konstantin does not let me out without supervision, even when I am dreadfully human.” She flashed Eve a half-hearted grin.

Something in Villanelle had changed in that moment. She had become like a sulking teenager, sure, but her posture held real vulnerability to it. Eve felt a new feeling tugging in her chest. Not fear or loathing or curiosity. Those were sharp like daggers. This was dull on the edges, but heavy somehow. “He keeps you here?”

Villanelle shrugged again, not making eye contact with Eve. “I am allowed to leave with him on occasion. He knows I would go insane if I was treated like a prisoner, tied up and held in a cell-” at that, she smiled at some personal joke that Eve didn’t understand, before she continued, “-but generally, yes, I am kept here.”

“Even when you aren’t going to... change? Even when it’s weeks before the next full moon?”

Villanelle nodded and set her fork down on the table, done with her crumbs. She looked up at Eve, her face emotionless, but Eve thought she was beginning to learn the minutiae of Villanelle’s expressions. Her voice carried a sadness she refused to reflect on her face. Eve realized then that the blunt, heavy feeling in her chest was pity.

She forgot for a moment the dangerous beast of the night before. She forgot that Villanelle had killed Bill. She reached her hand across the table and let her fingers cover Villanelle’s in a silent gesture of comfort. “It doesn’t seem very fair to you.”

Villanelle’s eyes settled on Eve’s hand over her own. Her thumb twitched. “Maybe not, but he does it because of the beast. He knows it is in my nature to kill. He has been trying to keep me safe, and controlled, for years.”

There had been an opening there, Eve would later realize, where she could have asked more about Villanelle’s history in Blackmoor. About how Konstantin had kept her controlled. If that was why the killings had slowed and stopped for so many years. What had gone wrong that they’d started again, with Bill. Eve would think of all of these questions later. For some reason, in the moment, they did not occur to her at all.

Instead, she asked, “It’s the beast that kills, isn’t it? Couldn’t your nature be something different?”

Villanelle looked up from their hands and met Eve’s gaze with a hard stare of her own. Eve no longer felt pity. She felt the sharpness of fear, small, but there nonetheless. Villanelle’s eyes looked the same as those of the nameless woman in the photo; cold and empty. And lost, Eve decided. Lost and adrift for too long to find their way back.

“When you share your mind with a monster for so long, it becomes hard to tell where you end and the beast begins.”

The sudden shift in the air was chilling. The sulking teenager was gone. The vulnerability was gone. Eve’s breath caught in her throat and she began to pull her hand back across the table. Villanelle was quicker, though, as her hand reached for Eve’s retreating wrist and pinned it to the table. Her grip was an iron band around Eve’s wrist and Eve could only sit there, frozen, her mouth open slightly in shock.

“Tomorrow I will show you something,” Villanelle said abruptly. Her voice was matter-of-fact and blunt. “It will help you understand.”

Then, as quick as the moment had happened, it was over, and Villanelle released Eve and rose from the table. She glanced at Eve’s plate. “The rest of your food is getting cold, Eve.” She turned and carried her own dishes to the sink. She began to wash them in silence, while Eve sat there, unnerved by what had happened.

A few minutes later, Villanelle began to hum. The tune was slow and melancholic. It reminded Eve of a music box.

Looking down at her plate, Eve found that the food that had been so delicious earlier held little appeal to her now. Something knotted in her stomach, some remnant of the pity she’d felt earlier mingling with something entirely new. She couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but she did feel one thing quite clearly; fear, sharp like a dagger, remained sunken in her chest. The humming did not soothe her at all.

* * *

If Eve had learned anything from her first evening at Blackmoor, it was that while the manor was luxurious and spacious to her, it was no doubt a prison to Villanelle. How many years had Villanelle walked its halls? How many times had she stared out the windows and wondered at faraway places away from her jail cell? It was a nice jail, to be sure, but confinement nonetheless.

How often had she raged against Konstantin, against the moon, against whatever had cursed her to live this way?

Eve supposed it would be enough to drive anyone a little crazy. Add the beast into the mix and she supposed that it made sense that Villanelle was a bit... unstable. Unpredictable. Difficult to pin down.

That was the conclusion Eve had come to, at least, after her first day at Blackmoor Manor.

Her second day began slowly. She lazed in her bed for an hour after waking, so wrapped up in the comfort of its size and its blankets that she hardly felt like moving at all. Eventually, she reached for her phone and found that she had a few texts from her coworkers. Elena had texted her to make sure she wasn’t dead. Kenny had texted her to say that he’d heard about her insane plan from Elena, and he was also making sure that she wasn’t dead. Eve shook her head in amusement and replied to them both, letting them know that she was perfectly fine.

It did occur to her that between Kenny and Elena, it might be difficult to keep things a secret from Carolyn for much longer. She wasn’t sure how her boss would respond to Eve’s halfbaked plan of living in the manor for a month. She decided that right then, she didn’t care, and she would simply deal with the problems as they arose.

She had then pulled herself out of bed, gotten dressed and cleaned up, and made her way down to the kitchen. She figured she could scrounge up her own breakfast and there would be no need for her to disturb Villanelle. Then, she would poke about in the east wing and see what she could dig up on Konstantin.

To her surprise, Villanelle was already eating her own breakfast when Eve walked into the kitchen. She held a piece of toast halfway to her mouth as she caught sight of Eve. Her hair was up in a bun and her clothes, jeans and a red flannel shirt, had the same slouching arrogance of her appearance the night before. Effortlessly beautiful. Eve could’ve cursed her for it, but she supposed Villanelle had enough malevolence to deal with already.

And she wouldn’t have really meant it, anyways. She found she rather liked running her gaze over the other woman’s face, although she stopped short of her lips, remembering her difficulties at dinner the night before. She shook her head and wandered over to the fridge.

“Good morning,” she offered politely as she searched for something to eat.

“Good morning, Eve.” Toast crunched, and then, through a full mouth, “How did you sleep?”

Eve’s lips twisted into a smile, though she tried to hide it even if Villanelle couldn’t see her. “I slept well, thank you. The bed is wonderful.”

“It’s small.” The reply came between loud chewing noises.

Eve did chuckle at that. “Compared to yours, maybe, but not by normal standards.”

It took her a moment to recognize her blunder, and then she was frozen by mortification at her slip up. Behind her, the chewing stopped.

“How do you know the size of my bed?”

Eve stayed silent. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

After a second, Villanelle spoke up. “Eve, you pervert.” Her tone came across as both teasing and impressed.

“I am not-” Eve shook her head, refusing to be goaded into the game. “It was an accident. Anyway. Your bed is gigantic.” She shut the fridge with a forceful shove and went looking for bread to make herself toast.

To her surprise, Villanelle didn’t continue the topic. She shrugged with a smile of amusement before she returned to her toast. Eve noticed that she was reading that she had started the day before.

Rather than interrupt her and ask about the book, Eve let Villanelle finish her breakfast in peace. It was unlike her to refrain from questions, and yet she was feeling uncharacteristically charitable all of a sudden. Or was it simply that she didn’t want to draw any attention to herself, after already embarrassing herself like that first thing in the morning.

When her toast was ready, Eve smeared it with jam before sitting at the kitchen table. This time she sat next to Villanelle as opposed to opposite her. It felt safer somehow. A less direct line of sight, or some other instinctual thing like that.

They ate in silence until Villanelle finished her breakfast and rose from the table. She closed her book, placed it on the table, and cleared her throat. Eve looked up at her.

“Would you like to go for a walk with me today?”

It was by no means a ridiculous question, but somehow it caught Eve by surprise all the same. She swallowed in an effort to unstick her throat- _stupid jam,_ she thought to herself, despite the fact that it was certainly not the jam’s fault she was floundering- before she gave a weak, “Y-yes.”

Villanelle nodded as though she’d expected nothing less. “Okay. Meet me in the main hall when you’re ready. I like to go out in the mornings when the forest is still rather sleepy.”

Before Eve could reply, Villanelle turned, dropped her dishes in the sink, and waltzed out of the room. She’d left the book on the table. Eve, finding it difficult to get her footing amidst Villanelle’s erratic behaviours, sighed and reached for the novel.

Deciphering Villanelle was proving more difficult than she’d thought, but she supposed it hadn’t even been a whole day yet. At least reading a book was simple.

It wasn’t long after she’d finished eating that she met Villanelle in the foyer. She’d left the book in the kitchen. One of them would retrieve it sooner or later.

For their walk, Eve had changed into jeans and a wool sweater. She wore her sturdiest shoes, which were not very sturdy at all, being simple, well-worn sneakers, and she had her coat slung over one arm as she stood idly by the front door. She heard the sound of footfalls on the second floor and soon enough she saw Villanelle descending the staircase to meet her. She was still in her jeans and her flannel, and she held a large, canvas jacket in her arm. It looked like something a hunter might wear, although it wasn’t so ugly as to be covered in camouflage. It was light brown and oversized, but it looked warm and comfortable. She was wearing brown boots to match. The entire outfit served to make Eve feel severely underprepared for their walk.

When she said as much, Villanelle laughed her tinkling, high-pitched laugh. “You will be fine, it is not far and it is not too cold.”

And then she threw open the front door and walked out. Eve followed her into the crisp morning air.

The morning could still be considered early, by some standards. It was a little after 9 am, and the sun was not high off the horizon. The days would continue to get shorter for some time yet. Eve wondered if Villanelle liked that; short days and long nights, darkness that stretched into the waking hours, digging its nails into the sun and dragging it down behind the horizon with an eager hunger. The image suited Villanelle very much, Eve decided.

It was not too cold, as she’d promised, but Eve could still see her breath in a wispy cloud as she followed her host down the front steps and onto the lawn. Villanelle called over her shoulder, her own breath misting the air around her, “I am going to take you to my favourite spot.”

Eve felt a flare of excitement in her chest. It wasn’t the kind of information that mattered to her investigation, really, but it felt important nonetheless. Villanelle’s favourite spot. And it was only their second day together. What might Eve learn by the end of the month?

Pushing aside the giddy feeling, Eve did her best to keep up with Villanelle’s long strides. She felt like she needed to walk twice as fast to match her pace, and it had her warming up quite quickly. After a minute or two, Villanelle seemed to notice Eve’s hurried pace and slowed down her own steps to make it easier for her. Eve nodded gratefully as they fell into an easy pace walking side-by-side.

“Your favourite spot... what is it?” Eve asked, more to break the silence than to have any sort of meaningful conversation.

Villanelle snorted. “I am not going to spoil the surprise by telling you before we even get there.”

Eve rolled her eyes. “Alright. Well, can you tell me about something else, then? About how you found it? How far away is it? Do you walk these woods very often- when you’re human, I mean?”

Villanelle shot Eve a sideways glance before turning her gaze back to the approaching forest. She was leading them around the side of the house and towards the woods at the back of the manor. “You ask so many questions.”

“Well, I did say I wanted to learn more about you,” Eve replied matter-of-factly.

“Right.”

They made it to the treeline and Villanelle took a beaten path through the trees and deeper into the woods. As the forest closed around them, Eve felt the same comfort she’d felt every other time she’d entered the woods surrounding Blackmoor. This time, though, she felt it doubly; strengthened by the presence of Villanelle striding ahead of her. It was silly to be comforted by her, Eve thought, seeing as she was the one who had made the woods so dangerous the two nights before. And yet, watching Villanelle pick her way around trees and over roots, Eve felt incredibly at ease.

Villanelle never did answer Eve’s questions, but Eve found that she didn’t really mind. She was entranced by the trees around them; by their silent embrace, their stoic vigilance. Again, Eve found herself wondering what the trees had seen over the years. Only instead of imagining the secrets they could tell her about Oksana’s beast, she found herself wondering what they might know of Villanelle herself.

Did she walk this path often? Did she always come alone? Had the trees ever seen her cry?

Eve was still lost in thought when they arrived at their destination, and she didn’t notice that Villanelle had stopped until she bumped into the woman’s back.

“Ouf.”

“Be careful, Eve. It’s dangerous to sneak up on a wolf.”

Eve rolled her eyes and stepped around the woman, getting her first look at where Villanelle had taken her.

They were on the shoreline of a small lake. The treeline ended a few feet back from the waterline, leaving them looking out at a barren, rocky shore. The water was as smooth and unblemished as polished glass, reflecting the blue morning sky and the red and orange leaves in a nearly perfect upsidedown image. A loon called from the opposite shore, it’s song echoing across the surface of the water. Eve let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“This is beautiful,” she breathed softly.

She felt Villanelle shift beside her, and from her peripheral vision, she saw her walk down towards the shore. She bent down and picked up a flat, circular rock. “I’m glad you think so,” she told her before she wound up and threw the rock out towards the water.

“What are you-”

The rock hit the surface and glanced off, skipping once, twice, three times before sinking beneath the water to the depths below. The ripples from its impacts spread out in perfect rings until they could stretch no further, reaching the shoreline as nothing more than the tiniest of waves. Villanelle turned to Eve.

“Did that bother you?”

Eve frowned. “No, it’s just- it was so pretty before. Completely undisturbed.”

Villanelle bent down and picked up another stone to throw. “It is beautiful with the ripples too, don’t you think?” She curved her arm again and tossed her stone. It skipped several times again before it vanished as well.

Eve watched the small waves in the water again. They disturbed the perfect reflection, but she could see that Villanelle was right; it was still just as beautiful as before. Maybe even more so. The ripples were evidence of Villanelle’s presence, of someone come to witness the beauty of the spot. It was proof that it wasn’t going unnoticed. Eve wanted to have an impact like that. She stepped forward and down to the shore.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” she asked, gesturing at Villanelle’s empty hand.

Villanelle arched an eyebrow at her. “You can’t throw a rock, Eve?”

Eve huffed and picked up a stone. “I can’t throw it like _that_ ,” she replied tersely as she did her best imitation of Villanelle’s posture and tossed her stone out to the lake.

It landed with a plunk not far off the shore. Beside her, Villanelle stifled a laugh.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Eve grumbled.

Villanelle shrugged. “It’s in my nature.” Then she shot Eve a wink and bent down to pick up another stone. “You hold it like this-”

She held out her right hand for Eve to see. The flat stone sat between her thumb and first two fingers. “Hold it loosely, don’t squeeze it.”

She adjusted her stance so that her feet were staggered, her left foot forward and her right foot back. “You stand like this to get the power to throw-” she twisted her hips to show Eve, “-but if you want the rock to skip, you have to flick your wrist, like this.”

“Seems easy enough.”

Villanelle laughed, light and carefree. The sound of it made Eve pleasantly warm, and she wondered idly how she hadn’t noticed the charm of it before.

“It is very easy. Watch.” Villanelle wound back and tossed her stone, and this time it skipped four times before disappearing.

“Alright.” Eve bent down and gathered up another rock from the shore. She held it as Villanelle had shown her and planted her feet the same way. She wound back and threw her rock. It sunk not far off from the shore. It didn’t skip once.

“Oh for-” she stopped short of swearing, but she crossed her arms in annoyance.

“You are very rigid,” Villanelle observed from beside her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eve snapped, annoyed by her inability to skip a damn stone.

“It means you are not moving your hips. You are not flicking your wrist. Just-” Villanelle stepped closer to her. “Pick up your rock.”

Eve did as she was told.

“Stagger your feet again.”

She did.

“Now-” Eve wasn’t prepared for the sudden pressure of Villanelle’s hands on her hips, or the warmth of her breath in her ear. “-You twist, here, to get power.” She felt Villanelle pull on her hips, guiding her weight onto her back foot. “Then again, when you release.”

She twisted Eve’s hips between her hands again, shifting her weight onto her front foot. Eve let it happen without protest. She was distracted by Villanelle’s touch, by her voice in her ear. The other woman had taken her by surprise and now she was bewitched. She wondered if this was Villanelle’s own kind of danger, separate from the beast, but not at all unlike a hunt.

“Don’t forget to flick your wrist.”

Villanelle’s right hand left Eve’s hip and moved to cover the back of Eve’s hand. Her fingers curled over Eve’s. Eve was reminded of the night before, of reaching for Villanelle’s hand and the strength of her grip when she’d reached back. Eve felt her breath leaving her in a shaky exhale. She wondered if Villanelle could hear her heart hammering in her ribs.

She pushed Eve’s hand lightly until her wrist moved the way she wanted it to. “Like that.” Her voice was husky in Eve’s ear, and then, it was gone. The pressure of her hands left Eve’s body and she took a few steps backwards along the shore. “Now try.”

Eve, lightheaded from whatever had just happened between them, didn’t trust herself to say anything in response. She took a breath to calm her racing heart and then wound back the way Villanelle had shown her. She twisted her hips and flicked her wrist. The stone left her hand as a spinning grey disk. It skipped twice before sinking beneath the water.

“You did it,” Villanelle called from behind her, amusement in her voice.

Eve nodded dumbly before it really hit her that she’d done it, and then she pointed at the ripples dotting the surface of the lake. “Ha! I did it!”

Behind her, Villanelle snorted and began to walk back towards her on the shore. She came to a stop next to Eve, but not nearly as close as she’d been moments before. She was a safe distance away, picking up another rock and tossing it out across the water.

Eve looked over at her then and watched the way she skipped stones with practised ease and expertise. “Is this what you usually do when you come here? Throw rocks?”

Villanelle was scouring the beach for another good stone. When she found one, she picked it up and tossed it in her hand a few times. “Usually, yes. It is relaxing, don’t you think?”

She tossed the stone. It skipped four times before sinking.

“It is,” Eve agreed. She picked up a stone for herself and gave it another try. Three skips. She watched the ripples she’d created collide with Villanelle’s. For a moment it was an unharmonious mess of lines and waves, and then, quick as they’d met, they passed, their waves carrying on towards opposite shores. Eve turned to Villanelle. “Why did you bring me here?”

Villanelle didn’t meet her eyes. She picked up a rock and held it in her hand, directing her gaze out to the lake. “Is it not enough to simply want to share something nice with you?”

The question left Eve confused. “Last night you said you wanted to show me something. Something that would help me understand you.” Eve looked at the lake; its beauty, its calm, its refuge. “Is this what you were talking about?”

Villanelle sighed heavily and the air between them shifted. Eve could almost feel Villanelle putting up some sort of wall.

“No.” She wound back and threw her rock. It skipped six times before it disappeared beneath the surface. “Come on then.” She turned abruptly and began heading back to the forest.

Eve followed after her, frowning. “But then why did you bring me here?”

“I told you, Eve. I wanted to share something nice.”

Eve let it go at that. Villanelle no longer seemed to be in a chatty mood. Eve wondered what had changed, so suddenly. Was it because she had brought up the previous night? Had she somehow...

She stopped abruptly. Ahead of her, Villanelle continued walking, either unbothered or unaware of Eve coming to a halt behind her.

_I am going to take you to my favourite spot._

Eve felt like an idiot. It _had_ really just been to share something nice. Villanelle had brought her out here, shown her the lake and, in doing so, had shown Eve a part of herself as well. The memory of Villanelle’s hands on her hips made her blush, then. The feel of her breath ghosting the shell of her ear. It had been genuine, whatever it was. To get such honesty from Villanelle felt rare, a gift to be treasured.

Eve had doubted it and tossed it aside. She swore to herself under her breath and started walking forwards again. She thought about calling out and catching up and trying to lighten the mood, but Villanelle was trudging ahead of her with a purpose, so Eve simply followed.

It occurred to her then that if Villanelle had brought her to the lake to share something nice, wherever she was taking her next had the potential to be entirely unpleasant.

It didn’t take long for them to return to the manor. Instead of looping around the front, Villanelle led Eve along the back. The tall, stone walls of the house kept them shaded from the sun. Eve could no longer see her breath, but without the sunlight, she grew cold.

Villanelle came to a stop at a spot along the wall marked by a strange stone outcrop on the ground. It rose several feet from the ground and met the manor wall on one side, leaving three sides exposed and its top covered by a flat piece of wood.

Not a piece of wood, Eve realized as she came to a stop next to Villanelle. A trapdoor. No doubt leading to a basement cellar. She felt nervous, suddenly, at the prospect of going underground.

“This is what I wanted to show you,” Villanelle said, breaking the long silence between them.

“A cellar?”

“A cell.”

Villanelle leaned forward grabbed at the handle of the door. She lifted it up and sideways until gravity took it over onto its side, leaving the entrance open for them. There were narrow wooden stairs that led into a darkened room. Eve couldn’t see anything beyond the first few steps. Villanelle stepped downwards into the darkness. Eve had no choice but to follow.

As the light of day left them behind, Eve began to feel her breath quicken. It was dark and cold in the cellar. She could barely make out the shape of Villanelle in front of her. Then, just as she was about to reach out to grab the woman’s jacket for comfort, a light turned on in front of them. Eve blinked dazedly as her eyes adjusted.

Villanelle lowered her arm from where she’d tugged at the cord of a lightbulb above them. It gave the room an unnatural brightness, made only more uncomfortable by the fact that they were completely underground now. No windows, one way out. Eve fought to keep her breathing under control.

The room they were in was small, still very much a hallway leading somewhere ahead of them, and so Eve kept herself firmly behind Villanelle. There wasn’t room for them to walk comfortably side-by-side, so she kept her gaze on the other woman’s back and nowhere else. She didn’t like the roughness of the walls or the mustiness of the air. It left a foul taste in her mouth. She swallowed in an effort to be rid of it.

Finally, Villanelle came to a halt in front of her. Eve wasn’t sure what part of the manor they were underneath at that point. Ahead of her, Villanelle stepped to the side to let Eve see where they had stopped.

They were standing in front of an iron gate of some kind. It looked very much like the door to a cell, with vertical bars protruding from the floor to the ceiling and horizontal ones marking the frame of the door itself. Beyond the door was a small, circular chamber. An uncovered lightbulb hung from the ceiling in there, turned on by a switch that Villanelle had flicked when they’d stopped. Within the chamber rested a black leather chair of some kind. It reminded Eve of something she would see at the dentist’s, only...

Her hand flew to her mouth as she registered what she was looking at. Thick brown straps dangled from the chair in places that would fasten someone’s wrists and ankles; their waist, chest, and neck. Something had stained the floor long ago, dried brown now although Eve knew it would have been red when it had spilled. Old blood. There was none on the chair, which of course meant it had been cleaned. The floor hadn’t been as important, apparently. Or maybe the stain had already set in by the time anyone had bothered to try cleaning it.

It really didn’t take a genius to understand what she was looking at, and yet some part of her brain refused to believe it. She began to shake her head in denial. Villanelle let out a sharp sigh through her nose.

“We’ve always tried our best to keep the beast locked inside.”

Eve was still shaking her head. “This is inhumane,” she whispered.

“Well, I am not exactly human when I am down here.”

“Still...,” Eve trailed off. Questions began filling her mind as she accepted the reality of what was before her.

“How long has this... how long has Konstantin been doing this to you?” It had to be him, of course, who was tightening those straps. Who was locking the door to the cell and leaving her down there. Eve shivered in revulsion.

Villanelle shook her head. “I agreed to it. It was the only way we could both be sure that I would stay out of trouble, especially when I was young.”

Eve turned to face Villanelle, her shock written plainly across her face. “When you were _young_?”

Villanelle glanced at her before turning back to the cell. “Yes. We came here when I was ten.”

“But...”

And then it clicked. Villanelle and Konstantin had moved to Blackmoor fifteen years ago. Lonnie Fisher had died, and then others. Then, after some time, the killings had become less frequent, almost stopping altogether. Eve covered her mouth again as the truth of the pattern became clear.

Villanelle must have sensed what Eve was thinking because she began offering an unprompted explanation.

“It was hard to get the hang of, at first. This is hardly the first chair to be brought down here. I escaped quite often. When I was small, I could fit through the bars. After I got free of the chair, of course. Before the chair, it was manacles chained to the walls-”

Villanelle lifted her hand and pointed. Eve’s eyes followed. There, on the far wall, she could make out the old, rusted bracket that would have at one point held a chain.

“-I would wake up sometimes with my skin flayed nearly to the bone. Have you ever heard the term ‘wring off’, Eve?”

Eve was horrified and disgusted by the cell, but it was the cadence of Villanelle’s voice as she spoke, its emotionless candour, that truly frightened her. When she didn’t reply, Villanelle continued anyway.

“It is a hunting term. It is when a trapped animal chews off its own limb in order to escape.”

From the corner of her eye, Eve saw Villanelle rub absently at her wrist.

“Eventually, we made a nearly perfect system. I would come down before nightfall, and Konstantin would tie me up. When I was younger I would cry. Eventually, I stopped. It is... inevitable. The change, I mean. As I grew older I accepted that.”

She stepped forward and wrapped a hand around one of the iron bars.

“Konstantin would sit with me until it happened. Never inside the cell, of course. He tried that once and nearly lost an eye for it.” Villanelle chuckled mirthlessly. “But he would sit outside the bars and hum to me. Read me stories or tell me about all of his adventures. And then I would change and forget, and he would just be my jailer. The captor keeping me in my tiny, little cell. The beast hated him so much. I chipped a tooth once when I tried to bite him through the door.”

At the words, her thumb traced thoughtfully over the iron.

Eve’s stare was glued to Villanelle’s body. She felt taut, wound tight; ready to dash at a moment’s notice. At the first sign of the ferocity that Villanelle was describing so impassively. She tried to remind herself of the lake, of the safety and beauty that lay hidden there. She wondered if Villanelle had done the same, those nights she was bound in her prison. Did she try to remember the lake, too? Could she?

“I think sometimes, he pities me.”

It was almost as though Villanelle had forgotten Eve completely. She was speaking simply to speak, now. To give her thoughts their due attention.

“Some nights, he locks me down here, and when I transform, I break free. A strap is too loose. The door is not locked.” Villanelle frowned. “I think he feels guilty, too.”

Finally, Eve found her voice. It was timid and shaky, but she found it nonetheless. “There has to be another way,” she choked out.

Villanelle turned from the bars to face Eve. “We’ve tried. This is the best solution.”

Eve felt her nerves fraying. She had wanted to understand, to know more, to know everything. But not this. This...

“This is torture,” she told the other woman, her voice frantic. “What’s being done to you is monstrous.”

Villanelle shrugged. “Something befitting a monster, then.”

Eve wanted to step forward and approach her as much as she wanted to run back to the safety of daylight. She stayed rooted where she was, immobilized by indecision and emotion.

Sensing that the moment was passing, Villanelle turned towards the light switch on the wall. “You said you wanted to learn more about me.”

_Not like this_ , Eve thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

_Not like this_.

Villanelle took Eve’s silence for an answer of its own kind. She flicked the switch and turned out the light. The cell vanished into darkness, but the image lingered in Eve’s mind.

Without another word, Villanelle turned and began walking down the hallway. Eve followed, wishing she would run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrote that whole ass frittata scene and didn’t realize until later that I also used frittata as their bonding meal in Cliff’s Edge. pls don’t @ me for my lack of creativity I simply derive joy from getting to repeatedly say ‘frittata’ in my head while i write


	6. my heart's aflame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so this got long again, i originally planned for this to be the second-last chapter but in my true fashion i made it too long so its being broken into two. So think of this as chapter 6a.

When they reached the manor, Eve excused herself to her room and Villanelle accepted without protest. There was a tension in the air between them that had nothing to do with skipping stones. The truth, or at least some of it, had been laid bare, just as Eve had wanted. Now, where did they stand?

After what she’d witnessed in the cellar, Eve found that it was more difficult for her to decipher her own feelings about Villanelle, let alone the other woman’s thoughts and emotions. When faced with the reality of it all, Eve had been horrified and a little frightened, especially standing so close to the person the cell had been built to hold. But then, as they’d retraced their steps and returned to the manor, shock and fear had turned to sadness and pity. They laid heavy on her heart with all the weight of an anvil, making each step feel as though it had required a superhuman effort to take.

It was those heavy steps that led her to her bedroom where she collapsed on the bed, exhausted. It wasn’t until later that day, when she’d spent some time alone, that Eve began to recognize the embers of some other emotion within her chest. Not fear or sadness, but compassion. It thrived off of the coals of her pity until it bloomed into its own kind of flame. It burned low, without flare, but it was warm in a way that she found comforting. After all, it would be heartless to feel no compassion at all towards Villanelle, wouldn’t it? Even with everything that she’d done, even with Bill...

Her thoughts and feelings had only gotten more confusing after that, so Eve hadn’t bothered to dissect them. And she had refused to check her phone either because the idea of her job was beginning to give her an anxiety that didn’t mesh well with the atmosphere of the manor. Blackmoor was steady and solid and surprisingly dulcet, even with its strangeness and the horror lurking below. Thinking about her work and about Carolyn, on the other hand, made her feel uncomfortable in a way she didn’t completely understand. At Blackmoor, she felt outside of time, floating in a limbo that was in no way unpleasant. When she thought about London, it was as though time itself suddenly tried to catch up with her and confine her; to compress her into a space that she’d long since outgrown.

At Blackmoor, there was her, and Villanelle, and the thread of mystery between them. In London, there was responsibility, and Niko, and the total absence of Bill. She had thrown herself into her work after he’d died and that fervour had brought her to Blackmoor. And Blackmoor, it seemed, was swallowing her up.

She didn’t mind it, of course, between the excitement of being on her own and the drive of investigating Bill’s murder. The town of Blackmoor had provided a challenge and a change of scenery from the humdrum of London. It had been exactly what she’d needed. But the manor...

The manor was the fulcrum. With it came Villanelle and with Villanelle came emotions like compassion and suddenly Eve was full circle, although she felt as though the pattern of her thoughts was anything but.

Try as she might not to think too much on it, the cellar had changed the way she saw Villanelle, and that had, in turn, shifted the way that Eve acted around her. It was her fascination and curiosity that had brought her to Villanelle, but her newfound compassion was compelling her to care about the woman in ways she hadn’t prepared for.

It began innocuously enough over the next several days. After the cellar, Eve didn’t want to ask about the beast for a while. Instead, she began asking Villanelle about herself, the woman separate from the wolf. What things she did like, what books and foods and clothes? What did she do for fun at Blackmoor, how did she fill her time? When she did leave the manor, what did do, where did she go?

It was a delicate dance that she performed, stepping and spinning gracefully around the topic of the monster, somehow managing not to trip and muck it all up. Villanelle was an excellent partner, avoiding the pitfalls in Eve’s questions as easily as she would twirl around other guests in a ballroom. Together they managed to find a rhythm, and it set the tone for Eve’s visit going forwards.

It turned out that Villanelle only sort of liked books, adored food, and loved clothes. For fun, she would break things which Konstantin would have to replace, she would make disgusting foods for Konstantin to try, or she would rearrange the items in the gallery for Konstantin to have to put back. Eve quickly understood that most of her fun came at Konstantin’s expense, and otherwise, she would spend time at the lake. And when she was allowed to leave the manor, she would go to some city. She would buy expensive clothes and expensive foods and she would sit and watch people all day long. Then, finished with whatever errand had brought them there, Konstantin would find her and bring her back to Blackmoor, and the cycle would repeat once again.

Eve was in the parlour room on her fourth day when she learned of another of Villanelle’s favourite past-times. She and Villanelle were sharing the space; Eve was in a chair that sat next to the floor-to-ceiling bookcase, Villanelle was in the chaise lounge that rested nearer to the piano. Eve was reading her book when Villanelle cleared her throat. Eve stuck her finger between the pages and looked up in her direction. “Yes?”

Villanelle was wearing something more elegant that day. Eve wanted to call it a suit. It was pants and a matching blazer, with a white shirt underneath. But it was dark, dark blue, like the depths of the ocean, with bright silver stitching and a vertically-stripped pattern to match. It dazzled in the midday sunlight that managed to spill through the windows, even at the back of the house. If it was a suit, it was an ostentatious one. Villanelle’s blonde hair hung loose and straight, suspended over the cushion of the chaise as she lounged, propped up on one elbow.

“Are you not worried that it will get boring, waiting for the beast?”

Eve shrugged. “What I’m doing here is no different than what I’d be doing in London – working, killing time, and working again.”

Villanelle cocked an eyebrow. “I would hardly call what you are doing ‘working’.”

“Oh? And what would you call it?”

Villanelle shrugged. “Paid vacation?” Eve rolled her eyes and Villanelle continued, “We get them sometimes – vacationers, I mean. History or architecture fanatics who want to see the magnificent Blackmoor Manor.”

“And I’m sure you introduce yourself as Julie and give them the most wonderful tours,” Eve replied jokingly.

“Sometimes." Villanelle sat up a little straighter. "Sometimes it is enthusiastic men and their disinterested wives, though, in which case Konstantin gives the tour while I entertain the wives.”

She let the statement hang in the air until its implication crashed into Eve like a runaway train.

“You don’t...”

“I do,” Villanelle replied, nodding sagely.

Eve thought she should be aghast but instead, she was strangely intrigued. She leaned forward, folding the book in her lap. “You just... pull them away from their husbands and, what, fuck them in the pantry?”

“Eve, please.” Villanelle’s voice feigned offence. “I am not so crass. I tell their husbands about the historical value of the bedroom in the west wing, about all its important decorative silks and linens and the like. And they usually suggest that their wife go with me while Konstantin takes them to the gallery, to see the swords and the clocks and the carvings of jade.” Villanelle waved her hand as though miming the grandiosity of it all. “And then I seduce the wives, and _then_ I fuck them. In my bedroom, Eve. Not the pantry. Do you really think so little of me?”

Eve’s mouth hung open in disbelief. She had an errant thought that she blurted out without thinking. "And that’s why you started flirting with me that day I came to visit?"

She hated the earnest tone of her own voice. An honest question demanding an honest answer.

Villanelle smirked. “You had no husband with you, but I think the plan would’ve worked all the same.”

At that, Eve found her footing, and she barked out a sharp laugh. “Oh, you think so, do you? You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

Villanelle continued to smile, unfazed. “Yes, I am. I have perfected my art.”

Eve rolled her eyes and re-opened her book, effectively ending the conversation. “I’m sure you have,” she replied, humouring the other woman.

A moment passed in silence before Villanelle spoke to her again. “Are you married, Eve?”

Eve kept her eyes trained on the pages in front of her. “No.”

“I thought so.” Villanelle hummed, then, “You have no wedding band.”

Another beat of silence.

“My system works much better when there is no husband around in the first place.”

“I imagine it does,” Eve replied levelly. She couldn’t read and listen at the same time, and the low pitch of Villanelle’s voice made it impossible to ignore. It coaxed at some hidden part of her, something she hadn’t realized even existed. She didn’t dwell on it. What did it matter, anyway? Villanelle had flirted with her before, she should’ve supposed that she would do it again. It was her own brand of fun, and could she really blame her? With the life she’d been forced to lead, it made sense she would look anywhere for entertainment.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Eve?”

Eve sighed, determined not to let Villanelle feel as though she was having an effect on her. “No, I’m just trying to finish this damn book.”

A soft chuckle reached her ears, and she felt herself blush. It was that damned pitch; low, husky, distracting. “You are enjoying my book, then?”

“It’s interesting. A favourite of yours?”

Villanelle scoffed, and it was so sudden and unexpected that Eve looked up at her again in spite of herself.

“As dear to me as a book can be, I suppose. Which is not overly dear, as I am not an avid reader.”

“Even with all of these books?” Eve gestured at the bookcase nearby, happy for a distraction from the topic of seduction. Villanelle’s voice had thankfully returned to normal.

“Even with all of these books. They must be short or else I will lose interest.”

“Ah, well then-” Eve held up _The Island of Doctor Moreau_ in her hands. “This is perfect for you then.”

“Mm,” Villanelle hummed. “Many of these books Konstantin bought for me when he thought he might turn me into a scholar.” She rose from the chaise lounge and walked over to the bookshelf, running her fingers along the spines. “I’ve read quite a few, but not as many as I think he had hoped I would.” She pulled one out, glanced at its title, and tossed it over her shoulder across the room. It landed with a clunk and Eve had to fight not to flinch. “And he insists on buying Russian editions. As if it will tempt me back into the language.”

Eve cocked her head, the discarded book now forgotten. “You speak Russian?”

“I suppose I _can_ speak it, but I don’t.”

“Why not?”

Villanelle stared into the bookshelf, her eyes searching for something beyond what was in front of her. “It reminds me of my mother.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Eve asked.

The question seemed to spook the other woman like a deer startled in tall grass. Villanelle turned her head and glanced at her, shooting her a faint, thin smile. “I will leave you to the rest of your book.” And she turned and walked out of the room.

Eve’s eyes followed her, her face set in a frown, until Villanelle disappeared from sight. She added ‘mother’ to the mental list of topics she intended to find out more about. She also added it to the list of topics that seemed to cause Villanelle discomfort or pain. The two lists fought for priority in Eve’s mind, and so far the latter was winning.

She sighed. Her compassion was turning her into a lousy investigator, and yet, it felt good to know that she cared somewhat about the other woman. It felt reassuringly human.

At the end of her first week at Blackmoor Manor, Eve stood in front of the mirror in her bathroom, scrutinizing her reflection. She was dressed in her pyjamas; a simple baggy t-shirt and shorts. Her hair was piled on her head in a messy bun, and her toothbrush hung out of her mouth precariously without her hand to support it. She was too busy poking and prodding at her face, pressing her cheeks and pushing her forehead around. She leaned forward over the sink and looked at her eyes.

She was doing all these strange things because she felt different, somehow. She wasn’t sure why or what was causing it, and her homemade physical examination was her attempt at finding out. Of course, nothing was wrong with her, on the outside. She frowned at herself and grabbed ahold of her toothbrush, brushing her teeth while staring at herself fixedly all the while.

The trouble was, she felt at ease in a way she hadn’t in quite some time. She had to begrudgingly admit to herself that Villanelle might’ve been right; her stay at Blackmoor was a bit like a paid vacation and she was beginning to reap the benefits. Better sleep schedule, better eating habits, less stress. Even living with a self-affirmed monster, she was doing better than she ever had back home in London. That was an alarming train of thought to pursue right before bed, however, so she spat into the sink, rinsed out her mouth, and put it out of her mind

By the tenth day, they had a routine. Eve would wake up, get dressed and cleaned up, and head down to the kitchen. Villanelle would be there, breakfast already on the way. Eve had been treated to omelettes and pancakes and sausage and fried potatoes. Any breakfast food she could think of, Villanelle seemed to know how to make. She claimed that her expertise lay in breakfast, not dinner. It all tasted incredible, so Eve didn’t much care.

After breakfast, they would usually go down to the lake, unless it was too cold or rainy. They didn’t talk much on the walk there and back, but at the lake itself they would skip stones and Villanelle would listen to Eve talk about her life. It usually went that way – Eve had more to tell that wasn’t monster-related, and Villanelle seemed content to simply sit and listen. It was one of the only times Eve ever saw her stay quiet for longer than a few minutes. The lake must have been able to soothe something in her that the manor could not.

When they were done at the lake they would trudge back to the house, and Eve would always avoid looking towards the cellar door as they passed by. Villanelle never asked if she wanted to return there, and Eve never mentioned what she’d seen on that morning. It was a horrid truth that had been shared between them, and they both were content to leave it alone.

Once in the manor, they would go separate ways until lunch, and lunch was the meal they most frequently ate apart. Eve might get hungry before Villanelle, or vice versa, or someone would take a nap or decide to have a shower. The midday hours were for themselves, apart, and Eve generally used that time to check in with work, or avoid it altogether, before setting off by herself to exploring the manor on her own.

In ten days she’d never found anything useful by herself. Blackmoor kept its secrets well-guarded unless they were willingly revealed by Villanelle, and Eve hadn’t asked her to do that since their first day together.

Despite the time apart, they would always gravitate back together in the midafternoon. Eve would be lulled to the parlour room by the sound of Villanelle at the piano. Villanelle would find Eve with her nose in a book. One afternoon, during their second week together, Villanelle found Eve hovering at the door to the gallery. How many times Eve had stopped and stood there, just watching, she couldn’t recall. She had kept her promise from day one and had never entered without Villanelle. For some reason, she’d never asked Villanelle to show her in, either. It simply felt like a room that had to be explored on a whim and not by any pre-determined gesture.

“Are you waiting for permission to enter?” Villanelle had called to her, surprising her and making her jump a little.

Eve turned to the sound of her voice. She was entering the parlour room from the main doorway and walking towards Eve with her confident swagger. Eve stood in the little hallway that led to the gallery. She smiled to cover her embarrassment at being caught unaware. “Just observing it from a distance, I guess. Big room and all-” she gestured awkwardly over her shoulder. She fought the urge to frown at herself. She sounded like an idiot.

Villanelle, dressed in more casual attire that day, sauntered up to meet her and stood at her side. She looked over the threshold and into the grand room. “Big, yes. It is quite the collection.”

Eve turned and let her gaze shift back into the gallery. “It looks like it, yes.”

They stood side-by-side in silence for a moment, then,

“Would you like to see it?”

Villanelle had turned to look down at her again. It struck Eve, not for the first time, how tall the younger woman was. It might have irritated her, once, except that she’d found herself becoming endeared to some of the woman’s more annoying traits. Her height could simply be another of them, along with her smirk and her unpredictable nature and the way she poured milk into her bowl before her cereal.

Eve had discovered that peculiarity one morning over breakfast. She felt it was something only a psychopath would do but she had found herself charmed by it all the same.

It hadn’t been lost on her that, in another life, had Niko done the same thing, it probably would’ve sparked a bizarre kind of debate. She would tell him it was psychopathic to pour milk before cereal. He would tell her it was sociopathic to marry a man she didn’t love and gaslight him on a near-daily basis. He always had a knack for dialling up the stakes of an argument. He always knew how to twist her words and suit them to his own needs, to throw them back in her face. Divorce was exhausting, but being free of him was exquisite.

Back in the tiny hallway, Eve was not thinking about Niko. She was looking up at Villanelle, their bodies separated only by a few feet, and wondering if the young woman would ever get married. What a strange thought to have about a near-stranger. She pushed it aside and nodded. “Yes, I’d love to see it.”

Villanelle smiled at her and held out an arm. Eve looked at it, confused, until Villanelle winked and said, “So you do not wander off.”

Eve rolled her eyes but took the other woman’s arm all the same. She had wanted a guide, hadn’t she? And with that, they took the final steps from the narrow hallway into the yawning gallery ahead.

Entering the gallery gave Eve a strange sense of vertigo. Not vertically, but spatially; spreading out around her into the grand, open space, making her feel smaller than she was. It was just a room filled with art, but she found herself glad that she’d waited for Villanelle, and even glad to have her arm as she entered.

Eve liked art, sure, but she would never call herself a connoisseur. She had the vague recollection of taking an Art History class in university, a time in her life that seemed eons ago. Villanelle, next to her, was young enough to be a new grad or a college student. She had her entire life ahead of her, really. What kind of life would she have led if she were not restricted to Blackmoor by her monstrous condition?

Rather than pity her, it made Eve explore the possibility in her mind; Villanelle unleashed and free on some European college campus. She immediately had the image of her seducing a professor. It was enough to make a quiet laugh bubble to her lips.

Beside her, Villanelle turned to look at her as they walked further into the room. “Something is funny? I haven’t even shown you the naked statues yet, Eve.”

Eve shook her head, mostly to herself and her ridiculous train of thought. “I just thought of you attending university, and how you would probably try to have an affair with a professor.”

Villanelle drew her other hand to her chest in mock-affront. “First the wives in the pantry, now this. You really do think so little of me, Eve.”

Eve didn’t rise to the bait, didn’t rush to correct her or deny it. She knew it would only lead them down some other nonsensical path, probably ending in a sexual innuendo or suggestive implication on Villanelle’s part. It was a recurring thing with her, Eve had come to learn; she could not pass up the opportunity to shamelessly flirt.

Instead, Eve simply patted the other woman’s arm and said, “Why don’t you show me some of this stuff?”

At that, Villanelle stopped abruptly. Eve realized then, with a small start, that she’d been watching Villanelle nearly the entire time they’d been walking through the room. In fact, they had already reached the centre of the gallery. Aside from her first few steps inside, when she’d had the sensation of falling inwards, her eyes had been trained on the woman beside her. There was nothing wrong with that, she supposed, it was just surprising. She had wanted to experience this room to its fullest but already she was distracted by something else.

Then, Villanelle gestured at the gallery around them and Eve finally took in her surroundings. Her new viewpoint, from the centre of the room as opposed to from an entryway, did nothing to diminish its majesty. Instead of having it spread out in front of her, she was now in its heart and it enveloped her fully. It reminded her of the forest, of the embrace of the trees, only the life held in the gallery was explicitly different. To be surrounded by trees was to be cocooned in the safety of their sameness, the protection of their stalwart strength. To be surrounded by art was to be exposed to its whims; to its meanings and its history and the way it demanded to be contemplated instead of simply accepted.

Around her stood sculptures and statues and pottery and paintings. Display cases and shelves and cabinets. To her left, she noticed a stone bust portraying the Greek Gorgon, Medusa. To her right, a small jade carving in the shape of a fox sat on a small table next to a polished brass pocket watch. The table behind that, she saw, held an old typewriter. On the wall she caught sight of an oil painting showing a knight on horseback charging into a mob of peasants, his lance held poised to strike. The painting next to that one showed a woman carrying a woven basket on her back, climbing a snowcapped mountain in the midst of a blizzard. Beside it stood a cabinet that looked to house several ceramic dishes, although she couldn’t quite make out their details at that distance.

Nearby she saw one of the naked statues Villanelle had mentioned, reminiscent of Michelangelo’s David only smaller and carved from black marble rather than white. A strange pattern of colour danced along its smooth surface, and Eve followed its glow to a large opal geode on the floor. It stretched upwards for nearly a metre, its sandy brown exterior like a thin layer of skin before it showed its jagged, crystalline interior and its rainbows of glistening light.

Eve turned to look behind her and saw a massive, carved wooden bear off to one side. How she hadn’t noticed it as they’d walked by was a mystery. She had been more enthralled by Villanelle than the passing pieces around her, it seemed. The bear stood on its hind legs and looked down at the viewer, its mouth closed and its eyes calm. It towered over the other displays that surrounded it; a watchful sentry keeping intruders at bay.

Eve turned back to face forwards, her eyes taking in new details with every moment they lingered on the room around her. A bonsai tree made out of thin copper wires, all wound around each other to form the familiar twisting shape of its trunk. A hulking slice of tree trunk with green resin poured into its cracks so they shone like earthly veins. A large two-handed sword made of steel, inscribed with something Eve thought might've been Latin.

Art of every form existed all around her. Her eyes returned to Villanelle and she felt a swell of warmth in her chest. “Thank you for showing me this.”

Villanelle turned and looked down at her. “You could have come in any time you wanted, you know.”

“I know, but I wanted my first time to be with you.”

The sincerity in her own voice was a surprise to her. Meanwhile, Villanelle raised an eyebrow in silent amusement at the vague innuendo in Eve’s words. It took Eve a moment but then she understood. She scowled and began to pull her arm away. “Oh, for- if you’re going to be like that I’m not going to be nice to you anymore.”

“Wait.” Villanelle caught her arm and held her, preventing her from pulling away any further. She looked at Eve with genuine, pleading eyes. “Stay? I’ll behave.”

Eve eyed her doubtfully for a moment before she relaxed and let Villanelle pull her arm to her again, intertwining them. “So, where do we start?” she asked, looking again at the large room around them.

She felt Villanelle shrug beside her. “Anywhere you like.”

“It’s not organized?” Eve turned to Villanelle as she asked it.

“Oh, it is-” she watched as a grin crept across Villanelle’s lips. “-usually. But Konstantin has been gone and I decided to rearrange a few things in his absence.”

Eve chuckled softly as they began to walk around the room, the red carpet muffling their footsteps. “You’re a shit, you know that?”

“You are hardly the first person to tell me so, but I’ll admit-” Villanelle stopped them in front of a tall table that held several ornate pieces of blown glass, “-you are the person I mind hearing it from the least.”

Eve scoffed, her eyes roaming over the glassworks even as her attention remained on Villanelle instead. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Why, would you like one?”

“I don’t-”

“You have amazing hair.”

Eve looked towards the other woman, a bit shocked. “What?”

Villanelle nodded her chin towards the curly, dark hair falling loosely across her shoulders. “Your hair. I like it a lot.”

“Oh-” Eve fumbled as she processed the compliment. “Uh, thank you.”

Villanelle nodded. “You’re welcome.”

A beat of silence passed and then Villanelle turned back to the table. She dropped Eve’s arm and made to reach for one of the glass pieces, something that looked like a tall bowl with its edges made to resemble flames licking up a wall, only it was made from blue and green glass rather than red and orange. Before she could reach it, Eve blurted out, “You look nice today.”

Villanelle’s outstretched arm paused, hovering, as she turned and looked at Eve in confusion. “I look nice every day, Eve.”

Eve huffed, embarrassed for some reason. “I’m trying to compliment you back, you asshole.”

“Oh,” Villanelle dropped her arm and turned fully to face her, clearly pleased by this development. “Well, let’s hear a better one.”

Eve tried again. “You make excellent food.”

Villanelle shrugged. “I already knew that. You are not very good at this, Eve.”

Eve threw her arms up in frustration. “Oh, so compliments can’t be something you already know?”

“I just think you should try harder-”

“What, what do you want me to say? I like your tits?”

The second it was out of her mouth Eve clamped her jaw shut. She was mortified. Villanelle, on the other hand, had the audacity to preen.

“Well, that was definitely better than the others.”

“I didn’t mean that, I just was being-”

Villanelle held up a hand as if to silence her. “No, no, this is fine. I like this one.” And then she turned back to the table and reached for the glass.

Eve bit the inside of her cheek in an effort not to grimace. She hadn’t meant to say _that_ , of all things. Sure, it wasn’t like she hadn’t noticed- she bit her cheek harder- but it wasn’t what she’d intended to say regardless.

If she were being completely honest with herself, the compliment she would have given Villanelle was that she had a presence about her that made it difficult to pay attention to anything else in the room. Eve was surrounded by art but her eyes kept sliding back to the woman beside her. To her delicate features; her eyes and her lips and the curve of her jaw.

But she couldn’t say those things. Definitely not. They strayed too close to something she didn’t fully understand. Some progression of her compassion, some extension of her curiosity. Some warmth in her chest that was stoked by watching Villanelle enter a room.

She shook her head and tried to focus on the gallery, on the glass in Villanelle’s hands. It did her no good to explore what those feelings could mean. Some things were better left buried.

In total, they toured the gallery for over two hours. Villanelle seemed to know everything there was to know about each piece of art. Either that, or she was making things up. Eve didn’t know which was more likely. On the one hand, with all the time she had to herself at Blackmoor, it made sense that Villanelle would know so much about the gallery. On the other, it seemed like a very ‘Villanelle’ thing to do – to lie about the art that she so often rearranged for the simple pleasure of toying with Konstantin.

During one pass around the gallery, Eve learned that it was Konstantin’s study that was sequestered in the back corner of the room. As they walked by, she noticed a spiral, iron staircase that she had somehow missed before. It was likely that she’d been too engulfed in the art, and the staircase’s dark metal blended readily into the background.

“That staircase goes directly up to Konstantin’s room,” Villanelle explained. “That way he can come directly to his study whenever he likes. When he comes back, I do not think you’ll even see him that much.”

Eve nodded slowly. “When do you think he’ll come back?”

Villanelle shrugged, already intent on leading them to some other part of the room. “Whenever he feels like it. He is so moody.”

Eve couldn’t help but smile at the sulky tone in Villanelle’s voice. “You miss him.”

“I do not.”

“Hm,” Eve hummed, unconvinced.

“I do not, Eve. Why would I, when I have much better company now?”

Eve rolled her eyes and turned to look up at the woman beside her. Feeling Eve’s gaze, Villanelle intentionally kept her eyes forward, and Eve’s stare roamed over her profile instead. Her cheekbones and her jawline and the upward tilt of her lips that gave away that she was amused.

It was the hint of her smile that set something aflutter in Eve’s chest. A soft stirring of emotions both pleasant and warm. Villanelle took that moment to cast her gaze sideways at Eve, and Eve felt heat rise in her cheeks at having been caught staring.

They finished their tour of the gallery a short while later. Eve excused herself to go shower. Villanelle declared that she would start dinner. They went their separate ways for the first time in hours, and Eve felt off-balance as she wandered the hallways back to her bedroom. It wasn’t until she reached her doorway that she pieced together what was causing her discomfort. She no longer had Villanelle at her side, no longer had the reassuring touch of her arm intertwined with Eve’s own.

Eve frowned to herself as she gathered her things. She remembered the heat in her chest as she looked over at Villanelle and the way she’d blushed when she’d been caught watching. Unbidden, she remembered the first day they’d met, when Villanelle’s fingers had traced the lines of her wrist. It had only lasted a moment but the memory brought the same warmth to Eve’s cheeks.

She let out a huff of irritation as she puttered around the room. Compassion was one thing, but this was something else, something more. This was curiosity and fascination’s distant cousin – attraction. This was enticement and interest and a blooming affection in her chest.

This, Eve decided, was a problem.

* * *

Konstantin returned a few days later, on the evening of a new moon. It wasn’t lost on Eve that he had chosen to come back once the moon was near absent from the sky. From what she understood, it had no bearing on Villanelle’s condition, but maybe her adoptive uncle was most comfortable when the nights were at their darkest.

For herself, Eve found that she missed the sight of it, its haunting, gentle glow, but that was a secret she would hold tight in her chest. If she let it out, someone might discover it and piece together the truth of what she was feeling.

Or worse, the moon itself might hear her, and return brighter and stronger and mercilessly full. Eve longed for the sight of the moon in the sky but by no means did she want it rendered whole. The full moon signified a return, in the form of Oksana’s monster, but it also signified a departure, in the form of Eve’s return to London. She found that she didn’t want to leave Blackmoor. Not yet.

When he returned, Konstantin was less than enthused to find Eve on his property. He barreled into the kitchen through the small side door that led, Eve had learned, to the garden. He was wearing a long overcoat and his face was flushed from the cold. She and Villanelle were midway through dinner, and with Konstantin came the chill of the evening air. Autumn would be turning to winter, soon, and the gust of cold wind that followed him into the house seemed to taunt them with that promise.

He had stopped dead in his tracks when he’d seen them together, eating polenta with mushroom ragout that had Eve’s mouth-watering before she’d even had a taste.

“What is this?”

There had been a dangerous inflection in his voice. Eve’s hand had clenched into a fist around her fork without realizing it. Villanelle, however, seemed unaffected.

“It is dinner,” she offered casually.

“ _This_ -” Konstantin replied, gesturing one arm at Eve. “What is she doing here? What have you done, Villanelle?”

Eve opened her mouth to speak but Villanelle cut her off. “She is my guest. You left me all alone and you know I do not like to get lonely.”

Konstantin’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “You are being stupid. Foolish. You _want_ to get caught and taken away, is that it?”

Villanelle shrugged and brought a forkful of food to her mouth. She spoke around her meal, one of her cheek's bulging comically. “You are so dramatic. Eve is here to learn and then leave, nothing more.”

Eve’s stomach clenched at the dismissive way she said it. Learn and then leave, and be gone from Villanelle’s life. The reality of it filled her with a melancholic feeling. She didn’t want to think about leaving just yet.

“Learn,” Konstantin huffed, interrupting Eve’s thoughts. “You have told her everything, then, I assume?”

Villanelle threw Eve a wink. “Almost everything.” There was a pause and then Villanelle added, in a more sombre tone, “I showed her the cellar.

Konstantin’s eyes widened a bit before his eyebrows knit together and he frowned once again. “And she is still sticking around?” His gaze flicked to Eve.

Eve had the sudden urge to put her hand over Villanelle’s wrist. As she did, her eyes never left Konstantin’s as she replied, “Yes. She is.”

Konstantin gave a derisive snort. “You are a novel toy that has not yet lost its sheen.” He stalked into the kitchen and leaned heavily on the wooden table, his eyes boring into Eve’s. “But what happens when you are no longer so brand new? Do you think you will still hold her attention?”  
  


Eve was taken aback, her mouth half-open in shock. Villanelle, far less frozen, rose from her seat and matched her uncle’s pose, leaning across Eve as if to shelter her.

“Get out,” she hissed.

Konstantin’s eyes shifted to Villanelle. “You should rethink this.”

“I said ‘get out’.”

Konstantin held her gaze for a moment longer before pushing away from the table and stomping towards the main hall. Villanelle turned to call after him, in a far less dangerous tone, “You are tracking mud all over the floor.”

The only reply they got was a disgruntled harrumph before Konstantin was gone. Silence followed for a few seconds before Villanelle sat back down at the table.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured in her best approximation of an apologetic tone. It didn’t come naturally to her, but Eve didn’t mind. The gesture was nice enough on its own.

“It’s alright.” Eve sighed heavily. “I suppose it was inevitable. You knew he wouldn’t be happy to find me here.”

Villanelle hummed. “Maybe, but he does not need to be such an ass about it.”

“Must be where you got it from,” Eve teased easily before rising from the table and making to clear their plates.

“Wow, Eve, rude,” Villanelle scoffed from behind her, still seated at the table. Eve could perfectly imagine the mock-affront on her face. “And after I just defended your honour.”

Eve slipped the dishes into the sink that was already full of warm, soapy water. “Defended my honour, really? Is that what you were doing?” She set to scrubbing the plates and their cutlery before reaching for the large dirty pot Villanelle had used to make the ragout.

She heard Villanelle’s chair scrape back against the floor before her footsteps padded over to Eve. They stopped right behind her, and Eve found herself holding her breath. She felt Villanelle’s breath ghost the shell of her ear a moment before she heard her speak, so close to her neck. “How many times have I told you that you do not need to clean up?”

Her breath tickled and Eve felt goosebumps break out along her arms. “I don’t think you’ve ever said that, actually,” she managed, although her throat was so dry suddenly it was difficult to get out.

“I haven’t? Well, I'll tell you now - you do not need to clean up the dishes, Eve. I don’t mind.”

Eve wasn’t sure what possessed her to do it, but she found herself turning around. The small of her back hit the edge of the counter and she found herself face to face with Villanelle’s familiar smirk. It took a superhuman effort not to look at her lips. The warmth that had been resting in her chest fought to ignite into a full-blown blaze. She held it back. Barely.

“Are you flirting with me now because Konstantin is back? Trying to get on his nerves?”

Villanelle raised an eyebrow. “No? I am telling you that you do not need to clean up the dishes.”

“Right.” Eve’s tone remained unconvinced. “Walking right up behind me, though? Whispering in my ear. Doing-” she gestured at Villanelle’s entire body with her hand, “-that.”

“’ That’?” Villanelle repeated, her confusion replaced with amusement. She leaned imperceptibly closer. “And what is ‘that’, exactly?”

Eve rolled her eyes in an effort to distract from the blush creeping up her neck. Why had she even mentioned it in the first place?

“Nevermind. If you don’t want me to clean up all by myself, you can help.” She grabbed a nearby dish towel and threw it at Villanelle. It landed against the other woman’s chest and began to fall before she grabbed it and chuckled softly.

“Sure, Eve, I will help.”

Eve turned back to the sink and sunk her hands under the water. The warmth of it was a relief, something to distract from the heat in her chest that was rising to her cheeks. She was flushed and she refused to acknowledge why. She felt Villanelle take up space beside her, and she resolved to keep her head down for a while, to focus on the task at hand instead of being distracted by her companion.

Of course, that was easier said than done. Eve had never been very good at impulse control.

After Konstantin’s return, things changed slightly around the manor. Eve found less time to be alone with Villanelle. Konstantin seemed keen on keeping an eye on them whenever he could; it made Eve feel as though she were a teenager being chaperoned at a middle school dance.

Eve would read in the parlour room some afternoons, and Villanelle would saunter in and join her, sometimes sitting at the piano and playing softly, sometimes falling dramatically into the chaise lounge hoping to earn a laugh from Eve. Eve, now in the process of reading Mary Shelley’s _Frankenstein_ , would roll her eyes or snort softly in an attempt to hide the smile she could no longer keep from her lips. Villanelle's charm was infectious, and Eve was drinking it up.

And then Konstantin would grumble loudly in the hallway before entering the room, and she would turn back to her book and put all thoughts of Villanelle out of her mind. She would snuff out the embers of affection that were burning in her chest, and she would remind herself that she had a job to do.

If she wasn’t careful, she would forget what she had come to Blackmoor for. She would forget about the beast in the dark.

Two things happened between the new moon and the full moon that reminded her of her true purpose at the manor. The first thing was harmless enough, if alarming; a passing glance out of her window one evening after nightfall. She looked up and found the shining moon in a cloudless sky. It was waxing, past its first quarter, and the sight of it so full sent a panic through Eve like the sudden lurch of an airplane in turbulence. The floor seemed to fall out beneath her as she stared at the circular shape in the sky.

It would be full in just under a week.

She had repressed all her memories of the last full moon. She had avoided thinking about Nadia’s dead body, slashed and bloodied. About Oksana’s snarling teeth and empty eyes and beautifully menacing howl. She had grown accustomed to the person she had come to know at Blackmoor; to Villanelle, and all her multifaceted traits and quirks and habits. Eve had grown attached, at the expense of her real life. She didn’t think she’d replied to Kenny or Elena in several days. Nevermind the unopened emails from Carolyn and the fact that she still had divorce papers to finalize for Niko.

Leaving Blackmoor would be a return to reality, and an ugly one at that. She had hated the reminder and hated the moon for bearing it, and so she’d pulled her curtains shut and put the thoughts as far from her mind as possible. It had worked, for a little while, until two days later when they received an unexpected visitor. She had been wrong to think of the moon as such an ugly reminder. She discovered there was something far worse.

Villanelle and Eve were walking back from the lake; it was one thing they still found time to do together, in spite of Konstantin’s disapproval. It was late morning. The air was sharp and brisk with the incoming arrival of winter. They could still see their breath forming clouds as they spoke, and frost now fringed the tips of the grass on the Blackmoor’s lawn.

They were leaving the forest behind them and returning to the manor. They walked single file amongst the trees until they were out in the open, then they fell into an easy pace side-by-side. Villanelle was telling Eve about a trip Konstantin had taken her on when she was younger. They had gone to Amsterdam for several days. Eve had the vision of a younger Villanelle in the Rijksmuseum, loud and impatient with the world around her. It brought a smile to Eve’s lips and stoked that flame in her chest. She was beginning to grow fond of its persistent warmth, despite the deeper implications of it that she refused to confront.

As they came around the corner to the front of the manor, Eve caught sight of the car first. It was a black, boxy sedan that reminded her of something made popular in the ‘80s. She frowned at the sight of it. It was a bizarre thing to see next to the manor. Villanelle cocked her head in mild interest as they continued their way to the front door. Before they could reach the entryway, however, the driver of the car exited and came to intercept them. Eve’s blood ran cold.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

Villanelle turned to look at her but before she could ask what was the matter, the visitor spoke.

“Ms. Polastri? I can’t say that I expected to find you here, but it is so good to see you again.”

Dressed in a long black overcoat and polished shoes to match, Raymond sauntered his way over to them, cutting them off from reaching the front door. He did look positively gleeful to see Eve again, in a perverse, malicious way that had her toes curling and her hackles rising. Next to her, she thought she could sense Villanelle’s shoulders tensing slightly.

“Who are you?” Villanelle demanded, none too politely.

Raymond turned his attention from Eve to Villanelle. “You must be Ms. Astankova. I am _most_ interested in having a conversation with you, young lady. From what I gather, you are quite the... how to put it – night owl.”

If Eve had been put off before, Raymond’s comment had her downright defensive. Only, instead of discomfort at what he was saying about her, she instead felt burning rage at what he was suggesting about Villanelle. Of course, it was true, and if he had figured out what Eve had, they were in a boatload of trouble. But just the idea that Raymond might know the same things that Eve knew was enough to set her blood boiling. It was _her_ knowledge to possess. Villanelle had shared it with _her_

‘You don’t know anything’, she wanted to spit at him. She felt her fists clenching at her sides. Only the sound of Villanelle’s voice, eerily calm, held her in place.

“I do not believe we have ever met. I would have remembered such an ugly face if we had. You are...?”

Raymond’s eye twitched at the insult but otherwise, he didn’t rise to the bait. “I am a private investigator sent to enquire into the strange deaths that seem to frequently occur in Blackmoor. I have been directed, by several interested parties and witnesses-” At this, he took a step towards them, “-to speak with you, Ms. Astankova, as you are the subject of much suspicion and scrutiny back in the village.”

Villanelle scoffed. “Simple people with simple minds. They blame me because they do not know me.”

“Ah, is that so?” Raymond asked in a tone that suggested he didn’t much care what she thought about it. “Well, be that as it may, I would not be the investigator I am if I did not pursue every lead, wherever it may take me.” His eyes flicked to Eve. “Although I must admit, this has led me in a very interesting direction, and I think I shall focus all of my attention here, on you.” With that, he let his gaze settle on Villanelle again. His beady eyes were a perfect match for his malevolent smile. Not for the first time, Eve had the urge to hit him square in the face.

Villanelle shrugged as though what Raymond decided to do with his time couldn’t concern her in the slightest. She began to step around him, towards the door. She grabbed discreetly for Eve’s hand as she did so, in an effort to keep Eve on the outside and as far away from Raymond as possible. Eve’s heart did a stutter-step at the gesture, and at the soft touch of Villanelle’s palm against her own. It was no time for butterflies, and yet they fluttered within her belly all the same.

No sooner had Villanelle taken one angled step sideways, Raymond had sidestepped to meet her, blocking their path.

“Bratty one, aren’t you?” he commented, unbothered. His tone was overly sweet, and Eve felt Villanelle’s grip tighten.

“So I’ve been told. Move, please. You are in my way.”

“Where were you on the night of the last full moon?” he asked suddenly. Eve’s fingers clenched around Villanelle’s hand but Villanelle merely scowled.

“Here,” she replied bluntly. “I am not going to ask you again. Move.”

Raymond stook a step forward, forcing himself mere inches from Villanelle’s face. “Did you know a woman named Nadia Kadomtseva?”

“Your breath smells like garlic and meat,” Villanelle retorted, her lip curling in distaste. She dropped Eve’s hand, and Eve took a small, unconscious step backwards. Again, Villanelle moved to step around Raymond.

“I don’t think so-” he grabbed for her wrist and locked his fingers tightly around it. “I still have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

Villanelle looked down at Raymond’s grubby fingers around her wrist before looking back up at him and offering a thin smile. “You really don’t want to do that.”

“No?”

“No. You should never touch a woman without her permission.”

Faster than Eve would have thought possible, Villanelle had twisted his arm and turned him so that she had his arm pinned behind his back. She held his wrist now, and she twisted his arm until he let out a sharp groan of pain. She grabbed his other arm for good measure and held him fast.

“You should go inside, Eve, so that he doesn’t bother you anymore.”

Eve stayed where she was, fascinated and more than a little entertained. “I think I’ll watch, actually, if you don’t mind.”

Villanelle’s eyes shifted from Raymond to Eve. They were bright and excited; she was enjoying causing him pain. Eve had to suppress a shiver under the power of that gaze. She had to admit, she was enjoying it too.

Villanelle turned her attention back to Raymond and began walking him back towards his car. “I do not care who you are and what you are doing here, but I have nothing to say to you, and neither does Eve-”

In spite of the pain in his arm and the wound to his pride, Raymond found it in himself to smile vindictively. “Ah, so it’s Eve now, is it? You two must have gotten to know each other _very_ well these few weeks.”

The inflection in his voice made his implication all too clear. It was a weak tactic, to be sure. A comment designed to make Eve furious, to stab at her dignity. Instead, it rankled at her for a very different reason. To deny that they knew each other in the way Raymond was suggesting was more upsetting to her than the innuendo itself.

And wasn’t that a shock to realize. Comprehension crashed against her like a wave dashed on rocks. No, she didn’t know Villanelle like _that_. But would it be so crazy to want to?

Villanelle, on the other hand, had no issues with Raymond's comments or his weak attempts to rile her up. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like a swollen carrot?”

Raymond huffed as she led him back to the car. Eve followed them at a short distance. Once they were at the driver’s side, Villanelle let go of the arm she wasn't twisting and gestured for Raymond to open the door.

The next few seconds seemed to pass within the blink of an eye. Rather than unlock his door, Raymond threw his head back into Villanelle with as much force as he could muster. Eve thought she might’ve heard a crack. The shock of it had made Villanelle loosen her grip, and Raymond slipped from her grasp, turned, grabbed her, and threw her chest against the car. He reached into his pocket, grabbed handcuffs, and snapped them around Villanelle’s wrists. Villanelle shook her shoulders and tried to shove him away, but he held her pinned against the sedan with ease. When she craned her neck to look over the roof of the car at Eve, Eve could clearly see a thick trail of blood pouring down from her nose and over her lips. Her eyes were furious and maybe even a bit scared. The sight of it had icicles piercing Eve's heart.

“I may not be an officer anymore but you can trust I still know my way around these,” Raymond sneered as he tugged on the chain between Villanelle’s wrists. “I don’t take too kindly to being manhandled, Ms. Astankova.”

Villanelle struggled beneath his weight and spat blood across the roof of the car. Eve stepped forward and shouted for him to stop.

“There isn’t anything here!” she called to him pleadingly. “I told you, I was done with the investigation. There’s nothing here to find. Let her go!”

“Whether you had been here or not, Ms. Polastri-” Raymond pulled Villanelle up so she was flush against his chest. The blood was making its way down her chin and along her jaw, now. “-I would have still come calling. That you’re here only makes this so much more fun.”

With that, he threw the back door of the car open with one hand and proceeded to shove Villanelle in an attempt to get her inside. This time, she turned and spat her blood across his face. He paused and took a step back before wiping at it with the back of his hand.

“I’m going to make you regret doing that, you little-”

The sudden sound of a gunshot cracked across the yard. Eve squeaked and jumped, her nerves already frayed. Villanelle straightened up and backed away from Raymond as quickly as she could, stumbling a little as she tried to put as much distance between her and his car as possible. Raymond looked around for the source of the sound and, when he found it, his features fell into a hard glare. Eve turned her head to follow his gaze.

Konstantin stood at the doorstep of the manor, a hunting rifle held poised in his hands. The butt of the gun rested against the crook of his shoulder, his cheek so close to its body he could practically use it for a pillow. He held it levelled at Raymond's head, its long, narrow barrel belying the deadly force of its shot.

“You have overstayed your welcome, Inspector.”

Raymond stared back at him for a moment before he popped the collar of his coat. “I’m not used to being on this end of a rifle. I must say, you’ve surprised me.”

Konstantin took several steps forwards, leaving the doorstep and letting his boots crunch on the loose gravel of the road. The gun never strayed from aiming at Raymond's head. “Not an envious place to be, I think. Now, I’d like you to remove your handcuffs from my niece and then get the hell off my property. I can promise you I won’t ask again.”

For a moment, Eve thought Raymond would argue, but he merely huffed and stepped briskly over to Villanelle, who stood near the rear end of his car. She held out her wrists victoriously, although it was a hard look to pull off with all the blood coating her face. Raymond unlocked the handcuffs and pocketed them again. He stood there a moment, staring daggers at Villanelle before he turned on his heel and returned to the driver’s side of the car.

“This was your opportunity to do things the easy way, Ms. Astankova-” he called out, although his eyes were on Konstantin. Then, they flicked to Eve. “-Next time, I won’t be so gentle.”

And then he swung open the car door and ducked inside. Konstantin kept the gun pointed at him all the while, until the sedan roared to life and began to creep forward, turning a slow semi-circle before it retreated back up the gravel road.

Once the car was truly gone and out of sight, Eve let out a heavy sigh of relief. She rushed over to Villanelle, who was still watching the road, and she lifted a hand to the other woman’s chin. Her fingers made sticky trails in the blood drying on her face. She could’ve sworn Villanelle tilted her cheek into the touch just a little.

“You’re a mess,” she breathed softly, relief still heavy on her tongue. “Let’s get you inside.”

She grabbed Villanelle by the arm and turned her back towards the house. The young woman followed easily, apparently lost in thought. As Eve turned, however, she came face-to-face with Konstantin. They stared at each other for a moment before Eve addressed him.

“Thank you.”

The hunting rifle hung idly at his side, its barrel pointed at the ground. It wouldn’t take much, she knew, for him to raise it again and level it at her heart.

Instead, he merely grunted. “She is my niece. We look out for one another.”

Eve looked at him with a newfound appreciation. She nodded once before gesturing at Villanelle’s bloodied nose. “I’ll get her cleaned up.”

Konstantin simply stepped aside to let them pass. As Eve started forwards again, she felt Villanelle resist her. She turned to look and saw the younger woman pull her adoptive uncle in for an awkward, one-armed hug.

“Thank you,” she murmured into his shoulder.

He looked genuinely taken aback, one hand coming up to pat Villanelle’s shoulder uncertainly. “Of course.”

She let him go a moment later and turned back to the house. She was apparently no longer lost in her thoughts but she let Eve guide her inside all the same, content to be led without protest.

Eve made her way to the second floor, to the west wing, and into Villanelle’s lavish bedroom. It was the first time she’d been in there since that first day at Blackmoor. She tried to ignore the strange thrill in her stomach at the thought of it. It was Villanelle’s most sacred space but Eve had more important matters to focus on for the moment.

She led the younger woman over to her ensuite bathroom. It was beautiful, with a large counter, a walk-in shower, and an enormous bathtub in one corner. Everything was marble or porcelain or gleaming, bright brass.

"Take off your coat," Eve instructed as she shrugged off her own. Villanelle's jacket fell to the floor and revealed her in a plain, white v-necked shirt. It was so informal that Eve found it alarming, but it suited her all the same. She didn't think there would ever be anything that Villanelle could not pull of wearing.

Their jackets removed, Eve sat Villanelle down on the lip of the tub before she turned and rummaged around, looking for a cloth to wet in the sink. Eventually, she found what she was looking for, and a few minutes later she was wiping the blood from Villanelle’s face with a damp, white cloth.

They sat in silence while Eve worked. Eve could feel the weight of Villanelle’s eyes on her as she dabbed at the semi-dried blood on her face. It had stopped flowing from her nose, thankfully, which made Eve’s job much easier. She simply pressed her warm, damp cloth against Villanelle’s skin and gently rubbed the blood away.

Neither of them spoke, and the quiet was somehow deafening. If it lingered on any longer, Eve would be forced to think about how this was the most intimate moment they’d ever shared. Rather than face that and its myriad implications, she spoke up and broke the silence.

“It’s hard to believe there’s a woman underneath all this blood.”

She meant it lightly, teasingly, but it seemed lost on Villanelle. Her eyes stayed locked on Eve, inscrutable and magnetic; it took all of Eve’s willpower not to meet that gaze. It didn’t help that Villanelle didn’t reply either. Whatever thoughts she was having she kept firmly her own. They fell into silence once more.

Done with the blood around Villanelle’s nose, Eve moved the cloth downward towards her mouth. Before she got there, Villanelle’s tongue slid out and over her lips, and she licked off a bit of blood that hadn’t fully dried yet. She didn’t make a sound, didn’t say a word, and yet Eve felt as though some message had been sent into the space between them. Eve’s eyes flickered from Villanelle’s mouth to her eyes. She saw the intensity of her stare; it threatened to ignite some similar response within Eve's own chest. She squashed it, resisted it, and moved the cloth over Villanelle’s lips.

She tried to ignore the feel of them beneath her fingers. The barrier of the washcloth certainly helped. She had to fight not to think back to their first dinner together; to the way her eyes had been drawn to those lips while her brain had been thinking of the power of good taste. She made a tsking noise to herself. It was hardly the time, if there ever was a time for those thoughts. She set her mind on the task of wiping away the rest of the blood.

“You look like you are concentrating very hard,” Villanelle spoke up suddenly, in a moment when the washcloth no longer held her mouth hostage. “Is this a difficult task for you, Eve?”

Eve let her eyes meet Villanelle’s and she found the power within herself to roll her eyes rather than cave to some inner desire she hadn’t quite figured out the meaning of yet.

“It’s more difficult when you talk, yes,” she deflected.

She was midstroke in wiping at from the corner of Villanelle’s mouth. Villanelle turned her face sharply so that Eve was now cupping her jaw. Eve found it hard to move her hand back to the trail of blood near her lips. She found she didn’t entirely want to. She held steady, holding Villanelle’s jaw, and tried to remember how to breathe.

“You are good at this,” Villanelle told her matter-of-factly. Her eyes still hadn’t left Eve’s, a fact Eve was all too aware of. She felt a coiling in her gut, a kind of tension that had nothing to do with fear or pain or blood.

She kept her voice as level as possible when she replied, “It’s not that hard.” She met Villanelle’s gaze. “Just a bit of warm water and pressure.”

“Mm,” Villanelle hummed before turning her face to its original position. “It is nice.”

Eve took the motion as permission to continue, and she began dabbing at the blood beginning to flake along the Villanelle's chin. She couldn’t risk them slipping into silence again. The silence was loud in its own way, alerting her to every beat of her heart, every breath on her tongue.

“My mother did this for me when I was young,” she began, talking just to talk and to keep her mind off of everything else. “I fell off my bike when I was eight or nine. I scraped up my chin and busted my nose.” She paused, chuckling to herself. “Fell right onto the curb of the sidewalk.”

Villanelle didn’t resist as Eve brought up her other hand and grabbed her chin, tilting it upwards so she could follow the blood down the underside of her jaw.

“I’ll never forget what she told me-”

“What did she say?” Villanelle asked abruptly before Eve could even finish her sentence. There was an eagerness there that Eve had never seen in her before. Eve didn’t dwell on it as she continued,

“She said, ‘you need that face to get a good husband. Next time aim for your knees.’”

Villanelle frowned. “Was she rude to you?”

Eve laughed softly. “No, not at all. It was her way of chastising me for falling off my bike.”

“Why would she do that?”

Eve shrugged. “I was chasing something. I don’t remember what, honestly. But I wasn’t watching where I was going, and I ran into the curb at an odd angle. Went head over my handlebars and, well, there you have it."

She released Villanelle’s chin with one hand, although she kept the cloth pressed to her jaw with the other. She wiped a few more errant spots of blood off her face, near her mouth and her nose where she’d missed them before, and then she made to pull her hand away. Villanelle’s hand came up to meet her and she snaked her fingers around her wrist.

“Wait,” she murmured, her eyes drifting shut. “It’s nice.”

Eve’s heart lept into her throat. There was something so vulnerable, so small about Villanelle in that moment. And beautiful too, as always, but in a different light. In the soft glow of the bathroom, Eve was staring at a woman who had no hint of a beast inside her at all.

A few moments passed in silence before Villanelle spoke. “My mother never did this for me.”

It was quiet, barely a whisper. If Eve hadn’t been the only other person in the room, if she hadn’t been hovering only a few inches away, she wouldn’t have thought that it hadn’t been intended for her to hear. But it had, she knew it had.

“What was she like?” she asked, her voice soft to match Villanelle’s. Some part of her brain was straining to remind her that _this_ was something she’d come to Blackmoor to learn. This was the kind of story she’d wanted to hear. But she was so far removed from her investigation, now, that she hardly even thought of it as she awaited Villanelle’s response.

Villanelle opened her eyes slowly, her cheek still pressed against the warm cloth in Eve’s hand. Her fingers were still locked around Eve’s wrist. “She was cold. Distant. Selfish. I once told her she was dead inside. She laughed.”

Eve struggled to find the right words. In the end, she settled on, “She doesn’t sound like a very good mother.”

“She wasn’t.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds longer. Eve could’ve asked about the psychiatric hospital, about how she’d come to be placed there, and what had happened to her parents. She could’ve, but she didn’t. Villanelle had given her a gift in the form of her honesty, and Eve cradled it like a flower in the palm of her hand. She would not squander it by asking about the other pains of her past.

When enough time had passed that it seemed like the right time, Eve let her hand fall away from Villanelle’s cheek. The younger woman let her but did not release her wrist. Instead, as Eve’s hand moved through the space between them to come to rest in her lap, Villanelle followed it with her own, her fingers brushing Eve’s skin. She cradled the back of Eve’s hand in her palm, and in Eve’s palm lay the cloth. Facing up, towards both of them, it was red with blood.

“Sorry,” Eve said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have used something white.”

Villanelle’s fingers twitched as though she meant to close them around Eve’s hand. “Do not worry, I have several. It won’t be missed.”

Another beat of silence, then, “I guess I should... go.”

“If you like,” Villanelle replied calmly. It was something like an invitation, but not quite. It was an option, but not a request, and Eve found herself nervous to stay any longer with the heaviness that was suddenly settling between them.

“I’ll, uh, take this with me. Try to rinse it out or something,” she offered lamely as she rose from the edge of the tub and began to back out of the room. She paused to grab her coat. “I’m sorry about Raymond-”

Villanelle lifted a hand and smiled softly. “Don’t ruin the moment by mentioning his name.”

_The moment._ Eve felt her chest tighten with an emotion she didn’t want to address. Something like excitement mingled with anxiety. “Right, sorry.” She nodded and retreated hastily from the room.

When she was free of the bathroom, she made a beeline to leave the bedroom, too. She passed around Villanelle’s enormous bed, refusing to let herself so much as look at it. Raymond’s voice echoed in her mind.

“ _You two must have gotten to know each other very well.”_

Eve shook her head to herself and rushed from the bedroom, darting from the west wing across the hall to the east. She made it to her bathroom in the nick of time, a wave of panic seeping in just as she caught herself over the bathroom sink. She shut the door with her foot and listened to herself begin to hyperventilate.

Raymond and Konstantin and Villanelle and her mother. Villanelle and her blood and her nose and her lips. Eve gripped the porcelain tightly beneath her hands, hunching over. She wasn’t sure if she was having an anxiety attack or if she was finally coming to terms with all the things she’d been avoiding. The still-damp washcloth was bunched in one fist, the pressure of her grip causing pink lines of bloody water to trickle between her fingers and into the sink.

Villanelle’s lips and her jaw. Her eyes and that lost look and the vulnerability of honest truth. Eve forced herself to breathe slowly, to inhale through her nose and exhale through her mouth. Still, her brain swirled with things no longer moored to their brackets on the walls of her mind. She had washed the blood from Villanelle's face only moments ago. How had she stayed so calm then?

More thoughts. Villanelle and the beast and the moon and the cellar. Less than a week until the transformation. Less than a week left at Blackmoor.

Villanelle and her blood and her lips and her tongue.

Eve lifted her hand from the edge of the sink. She was acting on impulse more than coherent thought as she brought the washcloth up to her face. The red blotches on it were beginning to set into the threads. If she didn’t clean it soon, it would be bloodstained for good.

Moving slowly, she brought it to her mouth. The motion was calming, somehow, and the cacophony of thoughts started to wind down. She breathed deeply. If she thought she would smell Villanelle, she was wrong. The only scent was iron. It filled her nose with a sharp metallic tang. Then, gently, she brought the cloth to her lips. She let it press there, still warm, against her unmoving mouth. She closed her eyes and waited, her breathing deep and in control. Then, she lowered her hand and let the cloth fall into the sink. She opened her eyes and looked into the mirror. Her panic had passed.

She looked like herself, or rather, the Blackmoor version of herself. The one that was sleeping better and eating better and generally benefitting from an impromptu kind of holiday. Her lips showed no signs of the blood from the cloth. Still, Eve slid her tongue across them.

Iron and salt mingled on her tongue but she found that it didn’t disgust her. The taste was hardly there, although what little bit of it she did find seemed to linger in her mouth. It lingered long after she’d washed the cloth several times, trying her best to remove the blood from its white threads. It lingered as she returned to her room and fell back on her bed, trying to decompress from the morning's events.

And it lingered even until she went down to the kitchen for lunch, and found herself in the company of Konstantin as she scrounged up her food. Only the taste of the sandwich she made finally wiped the last bit of blood from her mouth. She was halfway through eating it when Villanelle walked into the room.

Eve’s eyes found her before she even registered she was there. She was attuned to her presence, and she thought she knew why. As Villanelle sat down at the table with her own plate of food, Eve watched her in a way that was reminiscent of their first night together.

Her gaze found Villanelle’s lips, and she felt a hunger come alive in her gut that had nothing to do with her meal. It had only been a few short weeks but Eve could no longer ignore the meaning of the growing heat in her chest or the knotting tension in her belly. She thought back to the moment in Villanelle's bathroom, to the press of Villanelle’s mouth against the cloth in her hand.

Yes, she remembered now. Villanelle’s blood wasn’t the only thing the cloth had been held to. At the tiny wooden table, Eve licked her lips.


	7. let me lay waste to thee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting early bc its the full moon and i am a lunatic like that.  
> public service announcement: the following chapter is not appropriate bedtime story material for children.
> 
> (not sure what happened to the chapter counter thing but if ao3 lists this as chapter 6 when its chapter 7 i will flip my lid)

“You do not need to keep asking me, Eve. I’m telling you, I’m alright.”

Villanelle was letting Eve inspect her nose. Her chin was cradled in the crook of Eve’s hand as they sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Lunch had long since been eaten and Konstantin had left them alone. He seemed begrudgingly accepting of them being together after the morning’s event with Raymond. Eve had asked how Villanelle was feeling and had pulled her jaw close just to have an excuse to touch her.

“It doesn’t hurt at all?” she asked as she tilted Villanelle’s face to the side. God, she was beautiful. It didn’t seem fair.

“No, Eve. If it is broken, it will be healed by tomorrow. It will barely even bruise.”

“And that’s because of the... _thing?”_ Eve thought she sounded silly, and she felt herself blush. Villanelle didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes. I heal extraordinarily quickly.”

Eve wasn’t sure what had changed, exactly, but somehow talking about Villanelle’s condition didn’t seem as heavy as it once had. Maybe it was their new dynamic, or her newfound... respect for the other woman. Either way, it felt surprisingly nice to talk about it out loud and not tiptoe around it like a landmine.

“That’s incredible,” she murmured, releasing Villanelle’s jaw. She had no excuse to hold on to her any longer. She tried to ignore the pang of regret between her ribs as she let her hand fall to the table. “No wonder I haven’t heard you complain about your shoulder.”

Villanelle nodded slowly before adding, “Also, I would not complain. I am too tough.”

Eve rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips. “Right,” she replied, unconvinced. “You wouldn’t complain _at all._ There isn’t a single dramatic bone in your body.”

Villanelle frowned at her sarcasm and stuck her tongue out at her. Eve avoided looking at her mouth and let out a light, easy laugh. It felt good; carefree.

Blackmoor was ruining her.

She remembered something then, and as her laughter faded, she said, “So that stab wound I gave you...”

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to say it- no, that wasn’t true. She was sure, she just didn’t like thinking about it; her attraction to Villanelle. But the words fell from her lips nonetheless, seemingly harmless. What did it matter if she was asking for a scrap of information about Villanelle’s body? It didn’t, she told herself. It didn’t, it didn’t, it didn’t.

She had been intending to keep her eyes firmly focused on the scratch-marked table in front of her, but then Villanelle hummed; a low, rich sound from the back of her throat, and Eve may as well have been a moth drawn to a flame. Her gaze shifted up.

Villanelle was watching her intently, a small smirk on her lips. It was as if she knew the effect something as simple as a hum had had on Eve. “And here I thought you had forgotten.”

Eve shook her head slightly. “No,” she choked out. Her lungs felt empty, like she’d been underwater for too long. “I didn’t.”

It was only a few moments but she couldn’t hold Villanelle’s gaze any longer. She let her eyes drop back down to the table, to her hands and her nails and anything other than Villanelle.

“It healed a while ago, but I like to think there is still a mark.”

Eve thought she could sense the air between them shift as Villanelle suddenly leaned closer. She was displacing the atoms between them, and a subconscious part of Eve could feel their removal. It left their bodies closer together than they’d been a second before. Eve fought to keep her eyes on the table.

“Maybe you would like to see it?”

And just like that, the battle was lost. She looked up. She could feel her eyes widen in shock at Villanelle’s suggestion; could feel tension constricting her chest like a vice. Villanelle’s smirk was gone, her lips slightly parted as she leaned closer to Eve. Her gaze had been on Eve’s lips until she saw Eve look up from the table, and then she fixed her eyes on Eve’s own.

Eve swallowed. She wasn’t sure what to say or how to react. Villanelle was pushing a new line, something untested, and Eve was afraid to admit it wasn’t as solid of a boundary as it maybe should have been. She rubbed her fingers together and imagined touching Villanelle’s jaw. In an effort to resist the urge to follow through with the thought, she said the first thing that came to her mind.

“I guess I should apologize.”

Villanelle moved back slightly and inclined her head as though she hadn’t expected Eve to say anything else. If she was disappointed with Eve’s response, with the lack of... Eve wasn’t sure what, she didn’t show it. “That would be nice. It was very painful-”

“-Although,” Eve cut her off. “-I would say you deserved it, what with the way you nearly killed me.”

Villanelle frowned slightly. “Nearly killed you? I only remember killing Nadia. And the knife you stuck into my ribs. And the man shooting at me.” She looked sincerely troubled by the prospect of almost killing Eve. It was then that Eve remembered that Villanelle didn’t always remember things as the beast.

“Oh,” she offered lamely. “Well, you basically cornered me near Nadia’s body. I was on the ground and you sort of just hovered over me and snarled. And then, well-” Eve almost felt embarrassed to mention it. “-Then I said your name, and you seemed to calm down a bit or something. And then I stabbed you-”

“You said my name?”

Villanelle was watching her intently. Eve’s mouth felt rather dry all of a sudden. “Y-yes. ‘Oksana’. It seemed to... affect you.”

Villanelle’s frown deepened and she looked down at Eve’s hands on the table. “I never knew that could happen.”

Eve tilted her head to the side as she watched the other woman's face. “Well, it’s not a perfect system or anything. Nadia tried and you- er, the beast- still killed her.”

Villanelle was quiet for a moment as the information sunk in, and then she reached for Eve’s hands across the small table. Eve felt that familiar flame ignite in her chest; warmth, excitement, and hunger all rolled into one. Villanelle looked up at her with earnest eyes.

“Eve, since you are set on seeing this through, there is something I want to ask you.”

Eve found herself pinned both by Villanelle’s grip and her gaze. She nodded slowly. “What is it?”

“My name. Don’t try it again.” Villanelle looked down at her hands on top of Eve’s. “If something happens and I escape-”

"-Escape?” Eve asked, confused.

“-then you should definitely not try to reason with me. Don’t try what Nadia did. Just turn around and run and don’t look back.”

Eve shook her head, still caught up on her earlier statement. “What do you mean ‘escape’?”

Villanelle’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “From the cell. Did you not-” Her features relaxed as comprehension washed over her. “You did not think I would be in the cell. But Eve, I have to be in there, especially if you are going to be nearby. It’s safer that way.”

“I- I thought- no-” Eve was stammering over her words as she tried to focus on what Villanelle was telling her. “I just- I guess I didn’t realize-”

“It’s alright,” Villanelle replied patiently. Her thumb rubbed a slow circle across Eve’s knuckles.

Eve hadn’t really considered until that moment what exactly would happen when she watched Villanelle change forms. She hadn’t thought about the danger in it, hadn’t thought about Villanelle’s inability to control the beast. She’d only been thinking about getting answers and learning more. Now, she felt like it had been callous of her to ask that she witness the transformation. Especially now that she knew about the cell. She sighed heavily and then remembered the other part of what Villanelle had told her.

“What do you mean ‘don’t look back’?”

Villanelle’s eyes drifted to the table again. “I mean ‘turn and do not look back’. It is simple, Eve. As easy as-” she looked up and met Eve’s gaze, “-breathing.”

Eve had the foolish urge to correct her, to tell her that breathing was hardly easy when she looked at her like that; with implications and hidden meanings and offers and hints. But she wouldn’t say that, wouldn’t shed light on the hunger lurking within her own chest. She tried to answer some other way instead.

“But-”

“No,” Villanelle cut her off. “I do not take many things seriously, Eve, but I-” she hesitated, and Eve’s mind filled the space with all the things she could’ve said.

_I am serious about you._

_I don’t want to hurt you._

_I care about you._

Instead, Villanelle said, “-I want to do this right.”

Her hands withdrew from Eve’s and Eve felt as though she’d lost some layer of protection. She was in a blizzard without a winter coat, freezing and lost, all because Villanelle so much as pulled her touch away.

She tried to ignore the loss and answered, “I’ll try my best then. If it comes to that.”

“If it comes to that,” Villanelle repeated. Her eyes flickered down to Eve’s lips, just for a moment, before she lifted her gaze again. “But hopefully it does not. It would be an ill omen if something bad were to happen on your last day at my manor.”

Her words hit Eve like a fist to the chest. They weren’t a threat, they were painfully sincere, and they served to drive home that Eve would be leaving soon. The full moon was in four days. Eve had told everyone; her coworkers, her boss, Konstantin, and Villanelle, that she would be going back to London after that. She had to, didn’t she?

Nevermind that she’d found an inner peace at Blackmoor that she’d only dreamed of in London. Nevermind that she’d found someone she could spend hours with who never seemed to bore her. Nevermind that she’d pressed a bloodstained washcloth to her lips and imagined it was Villanelle’s mouth on her skin.

Nevermind, nevermind, nevermind. She had a job and a home and a life in London. She had to go back once her work in Blackmoor was done.

And if she left without ever exploring the new feelings in her chest? If she left without knowing if Villanelle felt them too? If she left and never discovered what Villanelle’s mouth tasted like?

Well, that was just the way of life, wasn’t it?

All of these thoughts raced through her mind quickly enough that she didn’t let the silence hang for too long between them. “Your manor?” she teased. “I thought your uncle owned this place.”

Deflection; it was the only weapon she had. Villanelle accepted it easily enough, rolling her eyes good-naturedly as she pushed back from the kitchen table. “It is his manor until he dies, and then it is mine.”

Eve chuckled and shook her head in amusement, her eyes returning to the table. She hoped it would cover up the nervous way she had begun clicking her nails and chewing at her lip. Nervous tendencies were unbecoming in a woman, so her mother had told her, and she made an effort to stop them before Villanelle could see.

The last she wanted was to appear unbecoming; to appear unflattering or undesirable or unattractive somehow. Tension coiled in her gut at the thought and its logical follow-through: no, she didn’t want to appear undesirable, because she desperately wanted to be desired. She wanted Villanelle to desire her and she wanted her to act on it too. By the time she came to terms with that thought, she looked up to find that Villanelle was long gone.

* * *

There are many indicators of the passage of time. Wrinkles in skin, the position of the sun, the phases of the moon. All of these were too large and too slow to convey what Eve was feeling. She laid on her bed, spread out like a starfish, and tried to understand what she felt in her chest.

An hourglass. That was what she needed. An hourglass was the physical representation of time slipping through her fingers. Grains of sand sliding from one glass bulb into the other, marking each hour with the slow excitement of a reaper waiting for Judgement Day. An hourglass would mock her with each minute that passed, reminding her that she was wasting her final days, her final hours.

Was she? _Wasting_ seemed a harsh term. And _final days_ seemed dramatic. And yet, they felt accurate nonetheless. She had spent the better part of four weeks relaxing, waiting, and killing her time. Now it all felt rather squandered. Was there something else she was supposed to have been doing?

It certainly felt as though there was something she had left to do.

The funny thing about dreading the passage of time was that it was liable to make one do absolutely nothing at all. To do nothing would be better than to risk doing something that would turn out to be a waste of such a precious resource. Eve wasn’t sure what she was _supposed_ to be doing, so by doing nothing, at least she risked no failure.

Or was that wrong? Was doing nothing the failure in and of itself?

This was how she spent nearly an entire day; contemplating time, avoiding Villanelle, and accomplishing not much of anything. She was sulking. Hiding. It didn’t feel right at all, but she didn’t know how to fix it.

When she had gone down for breakfast the day after their incident with Raymond, she had found Villanelle alone. She had sat down across from her and watched her eat. She had watched her lips move and her jaw work and her throat bob. It had taken five minutes for Eve to realize she had no food of her own. If Villanelle had noticed, she’d said nothing, but the cheerful tune she’d hummed as she’d done the dishes left Eve wondering if she’d picked up on Eve’s strangeness after all.

It had become impossible to be in the same room as her. Not for any unpleasantness, just because Eve no longer seemed in full control of herself around Villanelle. Her chest ached and her stomach knotted and her throat closed up. She found herself wanting to reach out and touch her. To move closer and share the same space; share the same oxygen. She had never felt so drawn to another person.

It had certainly never felt that way with Niko. With Niko, they had been two lines travelling parallel for so long that they bled into one; there was no force there, simply the coagulation of two distinct entities for the sake of ease. With Villanelle, it was gravity. Eve was pulled in towards her by something larger than herself, and she had no strength to fight it. At best, she was keeping herself in a healthy orbit, but what if they were meant to collide?

Gravity didn’t have to be all bad. After all, gravity had helped shape the universe and everything in it. Gravity was holding it together as much as it was ripping it apart.

Somehow, that didn’t scare her; the thought of being ripped apart. Not like this. Not by _her._ Maybe that should have warranted further contemplation, and yet it was the truth she most easily accepted about her newfound emotions. She would have let Villanelle eat her alive if she’d asked.

It was the indecision around whether she should even pursue it that had her so out of sorts.

Her muddled up thoughts persisted all throughout the day and into the evening. At dinner, she and Villanelle were joined by Konstantin, and the three of them ate in an unusually easy silence. That was until Villanelle flicked a spoonful of potatoes at her uncle. They landed in a splat against his grizzly cheek, and Eve watched as they squelched noisily, disconnecting from his skin and landing in a puddle on the table below.

Konstantin’s fork had stopped halfway to his mouth as soon as the food had met his face. Now that it was a mess on the table, he looked down at it before jabbing his fork in Villanelle’s direction. “You little shit.”

“Eve thought it was funny.”

Eve let out a harsh laugh. “Oh, don’t you pull me into this.”

“Oh, come on,” Villanelle whined, gesturing towards Konstantin’s dirty cheek. “It is hilarious. That is the kind of shit they put into movies, you know.”

“And how would you know that?” Konstantin asked, the hint of a smile on his lips. He hid it well, but Eve could tell he was amused with his niece’s antics. “You do not watch any movies.”

“I have seen one!” Villanelle shot back indignantly.

“Oh? Which one?”

“I- I do not remember its name!” Villanelle waved her fork absently. “It was so long ago. It’s not my fault you don’t want to pay for a TV.”

“You don’t have a TV?” Eve interjected, although she supposed now that it was mentioned it was true that she’d never seen one around the manor.

“I don’t want one!” Konstantin replied, his voice rising with his amusement. It was a jovial kind of shouting. “If I got one, she’d always be begging me to watch something with her! ‘Oooh Konstantin, let’s watch this, Konstantin, let’s watch that’. I am very busy!”

He trailed off into a laugh and looked around at his audience. He was surprised to find them not nearly as amused as he was. Villanelle’s gaze had dropped to her plate and she was poking dejectedly at her food. Eve was looking at him slightly dumbfounded. Nevermind that Villanelle was just wanting a bit of company, she could hardly believe Konstantin wouldn’t spend time with someone who was doomed to spend so much of her existence alone. Maybe not physically, but emotionally, Eve could only imagine how isolating it was to be cursed as Villanelle was. And her own uncle wouldn’t even spend a couple of hours watching a movie with her.

Adoptive uncle, sure, but what difference did it make. He was all she had.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table, broken only when Konstantin repeated awkwardly, “I am very busy,” under his breath. Then he cleared his throat, pushed his seat back, and cleared his dishes from the table. He returned for theirs and took them too, and then Eve was left with Villanelle alone in the kitchen. It seemed Konstantin had no interest in staying in the room to do dishes when the two other occupants weren’t feeling so charitable to him at the moment.

Another beat of silence passed before Villanelle spoke up. “He means well,” she murmured, but it was a half-hearted attempt to defend the man. She was scratching at one of the deeper ruts in the table.

Eve frowned. Her first instinct was to reach out, to touch the other woman and console her. She resisted. “You’re already so isolated... he should find more time to spend with you.”

Villanelle looked up and met Eve’s stare with solemn eyes. “It is not _his_ time that I want.”

Eve felt the room turn on an axis. The sink and the stove and pots the pans; they all began to rotate in a slow orbit around her. Only Villanelle remained still in the space opposite her. In this moment, it was really only Villanelle that mattered. Something in her chest, drawn by the same gravity, begged her to lean forward and close that gap. To collide with the body to blame for the force of her attraction.

Instead, Eve stayed where she was. Her voice left her in something barely more than a whisper. “What _do_ you want?”

This was the moment, she decided. If Villanelle said something, _anything_ that meant that she might feel the same growing hunger, the same coiling tension as Eve, Eve was going to take the plunge. She just needed her to say it, and they could both submit to the force of nature.

Across from her, Villanelle shrugged as though the topic were of no great concern. “I want you.”

_Yes._

“It is easy because I think about you a lot,” Villanelle continued, unaware of the tempest raging in Eve’s chest. “When you are next to me and when I am alone. Alone, at night, in my bed-”

_Oh._

“-but the truth of it is that I’m a bit of a monster-” at this, Villanelle’s eyes fell back to the table, “-and I am so used to being on my own that I forget what I am actually like to those around me.” She looked up then and rolled her shoulders as if easing some tension she held there. “But anyway, you asked me what I want, and I told you. A boring, human desire, no?”

_No._

Eve couldn’t get a handle on the tone of the conversation. What had seemed like a declaration of something appeared to be turning into some sort of warning. Villanelle had said that she wanted her, but she would not follow through because of her monster, was that right? The momentary elation in Eve’s chest was replaced with confusion and a tightness akin to pain.

“You _are_ human,” she murmured. She meant it to be a reassurance for both of them. She meant it to set Villanelle’s mind at ease, if that was what she needed.

Villanelle, completely oblivious to Eve’s aching heart, merely stood up from her seat at the table and shrugged nonchalantly. “Most of the time,” she replied casually, before throwing Eve a wink and turning to walk out of the room.

Apparently, she had no plans to do the dishes either.

“See you tomorrow, Eve,” she called lightly over her shoulder, and then she was gone.

“Tomorrow,” Eve mumbled to the empty kitchen around her.

She tried to understand what had passed between them. Was it an offer or a refusal or something in between? She tried to envision Villanelle sitting across from her,

_I want you. I want you._

But it did her no good. She sighed and let her head rest on the table. In the back of her mind, grains of sand made heaps of wasted time, collecting in the bottom of an hourglass of her own making.

“I want you too,” she whispered. It would have felt good to say it if only someone had been around to hear.

* * *

Eve rolled over and let out a heavy sigh of frustration. With her curtains pulled shut against the growing light of the moon, her bedroom was pitch black and disorienting. She would wake up and feel as though she’d awoken in a grave, suffocating in the closeness of the air pressed around her. It was foolish, of course – the bedroom was perfectly normal. And yet, she tossed and turned all the same.

She reached out and felt around for her phone on the nightstand. She tapped it and let its unnatural light fill her eyes. 1:12 am. She groaned. She had hoped it was at least past 3 am by that time.

She had hardly slept since crawling into bed around 10:30. The rest of her evening had been spent in a strange daze, and although she had briefly shared the parlour room with both Konstantin and Villanelle, the entire houeshold seemed to be under the same spell. No one spoke much, and they’d all gone their separate ways rather early. Maybe it was the oncoming full moon. Maybe it was the aftermath of their conversation at dinner. Regardless, Eve had thought that escaping into her bedroom might offer a reprieve, but instead she’d been restless for hours and unable to get even a wink of sleep.

In two days it would no longer be safe in Blackmoor. Tomorrow was the eve of the full moon. Eve’s body felt wound tight, as though she were awaiting some sort of action. Was it that agitation that was making it so hard to find sleep?

No, she knew better. She had felt attraction before, and its myriad similar forms; lust, desire, infatuation. She knew it had the capability to keep her up at night, tossing and turning and longing for something more. Something that she would not find in her bed, not even if she tried-

She cut that train of thought off quickly. She was not willing to entertain the idea of touching herself, not with Konstantin down the hall and Villanelle nearby.

Not ‘nearby’, precisely, but close enough for it to matter. Just left out of the door, right at the end of the hall. Left across the foyer. Right into her bedroom. Left, right, left, right; it was reminiscent of a soldier’s march, leading her into a no man’s land. She could almost feel her feet moving across the hardwood floor, following the path she’d laid out in her mind. It wouldn’t take long to get there, yet there was enough space between their two bedrooms that she could always change her mind.

There would be time to retreat if she wanted to.

Villanelle's words from earlier were haunting her mind. _I want you._

Eve threw off the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was dressed in her sleep shorts and baggy t-shirt. She thought about rummaging around for a sweatshirt, only she worried that if she hesitated for even a moment, she might lose her nerve. She stood up and did her best to navigate the darkness of the room and soon enough she found the doorknob.

She pulled the door open. Moonlight spilled in from the hall, from the floor-to-ceiling windows that led to Konstantin’s bedroom. Eve turned left and put the eerie glow at her back. At the end of the hall, she turned right, and she still hadn’t decided to retreat. She turned left at the stairs and followed them down to the landing.

The candelabra no longer burned on the altar, having been snuffed out before bed by one of the manor's other tenants. Eve glanced at the photograph. She wasn’t sure why but she thought she’d figured out the identity of the woman in the picture. The coldness and cruelty in her eyes seemed befitting of Villanelle’s mother. She wasn’t sure why the photograph was kept on the altar, but she allowed herself a moment to feel something like hatred for the woman within its frame. She had no reason to feel it, really, other than the idle remark Villanelle had made the other day, but something about her seemed deserving of Eve’s hostility. Then, Eve turned and continued up the stairs to the west wing.

The hallway to Villanelle’s room was where she began to feel nervous. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her fists clenched and unclenched as she kept moving forward. She took the last turn at the end of the hall, following it right and into Villanelle’s large bedroom. She stopped and took in her surroundings as best she could.

The room was dark. The moon hadn’t yet made its way this far west in the sky. Its glow was soft and delicate but not very bright. Eve’s eyes took a moment to adjust as she hovered in the doorway. When they did, she noticed a few things immediately. Villanelle slept with her curtains pulled open, even so close to the night of the full moon. Her room was tidy except for a pile of clothes tossed onto a chair in one corner. The air in the room was cold, as though a window were open somewhere. And her bed was unpleasantly empty.

Eve felt her stomach threaten to plummet like a stone with the weight of a surprising amount of disappointment. She didn’t let it though, didn’t linger on Villanelle’s deafening absence. Instead, she elected to make the best of what she’d gotten herself into as she stepped gingerly into the enormous room.

The first thing she did was take a closer look at the bed. It was made with a startling level of attention, its sheets folded back and its pillows fluffed just right. There was no mistaking the fact that it was empty; its blankets lay flat and untouched across its gigantic mattress.

Eve turned from the bed and wandered over to a nearby wardrobe. She gently pulled open its double-doors and found herself looking at what she assumed was only a small collection of Villanelle’s clothes. Various pieces hung from hangers, dresses and suit jackets and colourful things Eve couldn’t make heads or tails of. The type of things she would need to see on a person in order to discern what the hell they really looked like.

Against her better judgement (although hadn’t every moment since leaving her bed been so?), she reached forward and pulled a jacket off a hanger. It was one Eve hadn’t seen Villanelle wear before, something dark and professional, although in the low light she couldn’t make out its exact colour. Her eyes found the striations of elaborate stitching that would make for a showy pattern in the daylight. In the near-darkness of the bedroom, they were nothing but lines.

Something possessed her to bring it closer, to hold it mere inches from her face. It was as though she were holding the bloodied cloth in her hands, only this wasn’t blood and water, this was purely Villanelle. Distilled and fragrant. Eve pressed the fabric to her nose and inhaled. Some deeply hidden desire came loose in her chest.

“If you wanted to smell me, you could have just asked.”

Eve dropped the jacket to the floor as she spun to face the source of the voice. Villanelle stood near the room’s entrance, dressed in a floral-patterned satin robe that ended rather high on her thighs. It was pulled closed with a sash but much of her chest was still visible; a deep, plunging V of pale skin that was nearly as distracting as her long legs. Her hair was up in a messy bun. Her eyes watched Eve with obvious amusement and something else – something darker.

“I-”

Villanelle crossed the room slowly, and the movement of her body in the dim moonlight had Eve struggling to find the words to explain what she had been caught doing. She had always known Villanelle was beautiful and always known she enjoyed a prowling kind of seduction. To see it, to see her, like this, though, was something else altogether.

She came to a stop in front of Eve. Her eyes roamed over Eve’s body shamelessly, taking in her shorts and oversized t-shirt, lingering on the loose curls of her hair. “Did you come here looking for something, Eve? Or were you just snooping in the middle of the night?”

Eve couldn’t even fathom trying to lie. She was a deep-sea creature entranced by the light of an angler fish; spellbound and unaware of the danger that lay waiting.

“I was looking for you,” she breathed. The honesty felt like freedom even as tension knotted in her gut.

“Well-” Villanelle’s lips held the ghost of a smile, “-you found me.”

Eve watched her move closer until they were chest to chest. She had to crane her neck upwards to hold level with the other woman’s stare. Her eyes shifted down to Villanelle’s lips, and the tension in her belly drew tighter. “Yes.” It left her mouth as a sigh.

Villanelle’s eyes were unabashed in their hunger. Eve watched her drag her gaze over her body again, from her eyes to her lips and down the curve of her chest. Then she looked up at Eve and lifted a hand, bringing her fingers to the underside of Eve’s jaw. She tilted Eve’s chin up towards her.

“Coming to find me so late in the night-” the words were meant to tease, although they were laced thickly with desire, “-now what would make you want to do that?”

Villanelle didn’t expect Eve to answer. She was already closing the distance between them before the last word left her mouth. She pressed her lips to Eve’s and Eve’s eyes drifted shut. Villanelle's lips were soft and unrushed. Her mouth pressed against Eve’s with a gentleness that Eve hadn’t been expecting. She had been anticipating tongue and teeth. She had been hoping to be devoured.

Still, she couldn't deny the wave of relief in her chest. The feeling of _finally._ A sweet liberation. This was what she was supposed to be doing. This was how she was supposed to be killing her time.

Eve let Villanelle kiss her like that for a moment longer before she could no longer contain the simple want in her chest. She sucked in a breath against Villanelle’s lips and kissed back, harder. Villanelle responded with equal fervour, and whatever pretenses they had been clinging to fell away in the faint moonlight.

Eve’s hand came into the space between them, running up the exposed skin of Villanelle’s chest. Villanelle hummed against Eve’s lips and moved her hand from Eve’s jaw to her neck. Her other hand came up to grip Eve’s hip like a vice. From there, she could exert all kinds of pressure, could direct Eve in whichever direction she wanted. The control and her own lack of it sent a shudder through Eve’s body, and she could feel Villanelle’s mouth pull into a smile against her own.

“Don’t worry,” she purred, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Eve’s breath left her in a ragged gasp. Her lungs ached already and she still wanted more. Wanted much, much more. She would hurt by the end of it, but not in the way Villanelle was referring. “I know.”

Villanelle kissed her hungrily again, and Eve felt her hand move from the back of her neck down to her chest. Between that and the way she began to push on Eve’s hip, Villanelle started to back her across the room and towards the bed. Eve began panting against her mouth as her hunger set in, her body reacting to Villanelle’s touch by craving so much more.

The back of her knees hit the edge of the bed, and Villanelle eased her backwards until she was laying flat on the covers. The jostling had separated them for a second, and that brief moment apart had Eve’s nerves re-emerging. Villanelle climbed onto the bed, sliding her body over top of her, but before she could kiss her again, Eve said, “I used to be married.”

It was not at all what she’d been thinking, really. What she had been thinking was that she was nervous because she’d never done anything like this before. Then she had thought that Villanelle might think she meant ‘sex’ and not just ‘sex with a woman’, so she’d thought she should clarify that she’d had sex before because she’d been married to a man, thus leading to what had actually tumbled out of her mouth.

Villanelle hovered over her and looked down at her with amusement. “You wait to tell me until I have you on your back in my bed? Eve-” she tutted in mock-disapproval before leaning forward and pressing her lips to Eve’s throat. “You should know I don’t mind, of course.”

Her breath was hot against Eve’s skin. Eve’s hand fisted in the covers as she felt the blood rush between her legs. “That’s not what I-”

Her words ended in a strangled gasp when Villanelle dropped a knee between her thighs. She pressed against her and Eve’s eyes rolled back, not entirely under her control. Her heart raced like a hummingbird in her chest. Things were escalating; wasn’t that what she’d wanted? Wasn't that why she'd left her room well past midnight? 

_Yes._

“Yes-” she breathed, forgetting her earlier sentence, unaware she was speaking out loud.

Villanelle hummed against her neck and pressed her lips to the underside of her jaw. “Don’t worry, Eve. I know what I’m doing,” she whispered before she brought a hand down to Eve’s hips and began toying with the hem of her shirt.

Eve took the hint and lifted her back. Villanelle pushed the fabric up along her stomach until it pooled below her breasts. “Take this off,” she murmured, her face still buried against Eve’s skin.

Eve, feeling a bit as though she were moving someone else’s body, obeyed. A few moments later, her baggy t-shirt was discarded somewhere onto the floor. Villanelle was back to hovering above her, and her eyes raked over Eve’s newly exposed skin. Eve was painfully self-conscious, but she had no time to act on it before Villanelle was leaning forwards and pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses down her chest. She moved lower, between Eve’s breasts, and there she let her tongue draw a slow line along her sternum.

It was enough to make Eve tilt her head back and sigh, her eyes closing with the feel of it. Elsewhere in her body, heat burst to life like a roaring furnace, feeding fire into her chest and lower places too. She brought a hand off the bed and let it fall lightly onto the back of Villanelle’s head. The other woman must have liked it; she made a pleased noise in her throat and moved her mouth to Eve’s breast.

She closed her lips around Eve’s nipple at the same time that she pressed her leg forward again between her thighs. Eve gasped, her hips twitching and rising involuntarily. Villanelle smirked around her skin before continuing her attentions, swirling her tongue as she pulled at Eve's thigh. It was enough to make Eve light-headed, and she felt pressure building along with the heat below her gut.

It wasn’t long before Villanelle had her completely naked. Eve was a panting, trembling mess beneath her, her body shaking with anticipation. Villanelle had her aching with how much she wanted her; every cell in her body was crying out for more. She hadn’t touched her, not _there_ , but Eve was close to begging for it. As though she could sense it, Villanelle pulled back from where she’d been biting at the ridges of Eve’s collarbones.

“You have a very nice body, Eve.”

She said the words simply enough, but her pupils were blown. The sight of them stoked the flame between Eve’s legs but her mouth was too dry to answer.

Villanelle took Eve’s silence as an opportunity to press a wet kiss to her lips before pulling back off the bed. Eve frowned. She watched as Villanelle hooked her arms around her legs and pulled. She slid to the edge of the bed easily with Villanelle’s strength, a surprised noise escaping her lips. Before she could comment, she was met with the sight of Villanelle sinking to her knees. She brought Eve’s legs over her shoulders and looked up at Eve with a smirk.

“I told you that I had been thinking about this,” she began as she watched Eve with eager eyes. “I have thought about it ever since I pressed against you and showed you how to skip a stone across the lake.” She pressed the flat of her palms against Eve’s hips and brought her mouth to the inside of Eve’s thigh. She let her lips hover there, and Eve could feel anticipation like electricity on her skin.

Villanelle kissed her softly and pulled back. She looked up at Eve again. “I know exactly what I want to do to you.”

Eve let out a sharp sigh as Villanelle’s words struck at her core. She had no articulate response, she simply muttered, “ _God.”_

Villanelle tilted her head to the side as she brought her mouth closer. “Are you nervous, Eve?” One of her hands snaked along Eve’s thigh. “You’re shaking.”

Eve had always known Villanelle could be infuriating, but the way she was teasing her was nothing short of maddening. With no other option, Eve swallowed her pride- what good was it now anyway?

“I want-”

She was cutoff by her own gasp when Villanelle pressed another kiss to her inner thigh. Higher. Much higher.

“I know,” Villanelle murmured, and Eve could feel the heat of her breath against the apex of her thighs. She hovered there for a moment, and Eve felt as though she were standing on the edge of a very tall cliff, waiting for the breeze to push her over. Finally, Villanelle pressed her mouth against her, and after that Eve couldn’t utter a coherent sentence if she tried.

Her first reaction was to swear. The ‘fuck’ fell from her lips like a prayer; how fitting that Villanelle would do this to her on her knees. Her eyes closed and her head tilted back and when she went to breathe she found it hard to pull the air into her lungs. It collected in her throat and held there, making each breath become a gasp.

Villanelle ran her tongue along the length of her. Eve might’ve been embarrassed to feel how much of the wetness there was her own, had she been in any state to consider anything beyond the simple feel of Villanelle’s mouth. Her tongue mapped out every bit of her, teasing out secrets that even she hadn’t been aware of. The way Villanelle tasted her made her feel brand new.

Sure, Niko had known, objectively, what he was doing. But there was no denying that Villanelle knew her way around a woman’s body. And apparently, around Eve’s, with surprising ease. She made her back arch and her fists clench. Eve imagined her heels must be digging into the other woman’s back, but she didn’t seem to mind in the least. She continued working her mouth against the nerve endings between Eve’s legs.

They made eye contact once when Eve looked down her body at Villanelle. Villanelle was watching her with dark eyes, her jaw moving all the while, and Eve hoped the image would stay burned in her mind forever. Then, Villanelle pressed her tongue inside of her, and any attempt to keep her eyes open beyond that became pointless. She threw her head back and let her hips roll up to meet her.

Villanelle pulled at her as she kept her tongue buried inside her. Eve let out a swear that trailed off into a shuddering moan. She couldn’t help the way her hips jerked in an effort to keep Villanelle within her, even though in reality she was putty in Villanelle’s hands. When she pulled her tongue out altogether, Eve couldn’t help the way her breath hitched in her throat. Villanelle’s mouth was on her again only a moment later, and Eve’s hips bucked in a way that was entiretly beyond her control.

The heat that had been building inside her for the last couple of weeks had been a slow, meticulous thing. It would burn hotter in some moments than others, but overall it kept its flame low and its light dim. This heat, however, brought on by the touch of Villanelle’s tongue, was white-hot and searing. It felt like molten iron in her veins, coursing through her body with fever and fire. It was a blinding kind of heat, like the heat of the sun, and Eve’s muscles began to tighten in anticipation of the burst of it.

Villanelle must have been able to feel Eve getting closer. She kept her hands pressed down on Eve’s hips, holding her against the mattress as she worked her tongue with something approaching zealous devotion. If she was still watching her, Eve didn’t know it; her eyes were screwed shut as she tumbled over the edge.

She tried to stay silent- it was the middle of the night, after all -but there was only so much she could do to keep something quiet that was meant to be loud. She swore, and when that threatened to be too noisy, she threw her hand over her mouth and let her moan be swallowed up by her palm. Her whole body spasmed, her hips rocking against Villanelle’s mouth, and she felt additional pleasure from the way Villanelle’s thumbs dug into her skin. Her legs remained locked over Villanelle’s shoulders, the other woman’s mouth still pressed against her even as her body shuddered on the bed.

Then, released from its tension, Eve’s body relaxed. She dropped her hand away from her mouth and felt air enter her lungs properly for what felt like the first time since Villanelle had kissed her by the wardrobe. She lay there panting for a moment before she opened her eyes and looked down.

Villanelle was watching Eve even as her mouth hovered dangerously close to parts of her still that still ached with the aftermath of good sex. She looked rapt, completely mesmerized by the sight of Eve spread out before her. “How are you feeling?” she breathed.

Eve couldn’t help the low chuckle the escaped her throat. “You’re good at that,” she sighed, pleasure still heavy on her tongue. It was so forward but still, she felt right in saying it.

Villanelle’s eyes flashed with satisfaction as she shifted her weight. “I could keep going,” she murmured, bringing her mouth closer to Eve, pressing a kiss against skin far too sensitive for her touch. Eve squirmed, and Villanelle held her down hard, her reflexes too quick, her muscles too strong.

“I don’t mind,” she continued as she planted another kiss between Eve’s thighs. When she pulled back her mouth shone wetly in the moonlight. The sight of it had Eve throbbing with want. She pulled away as best she could under Villanelle’s grasp, but it was a half-hearted effort at best.

“Shouldn’t I-?” she tried to ask, but Villanelle cut her off with another kiss. This one lingered, and Eve let out a high-pitched groan as the pressure sent shockwaves up her spine.

Villanelle pulled back one last time. She turned her face so she could kiss the inside of Eve’s thigh. “I want to, if you are ready,” she told her, pressing the words into her skin.

Eve felt her stomach flutter with some unknown emotion. It was faint compared to the hunger coursing through her veins. She gave in.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay, but then I- _fuck-_ ” 

Whatever she had planned to say next was lost in a shallow moan as Villanelle brought her mouth against her once more.

She was quicker to come the second time, her body already teetering on the edge from her previous high. This time, Villanelle danced her hand along the side of Eve’s ribs and palmed at her breast while she worked with her mouth. When Eve came, she grabbed Villanelle’s hand and laced their fingers together. She held her tight, and this time, she didn’t care about the noise. She let out a strangled moan, born from the back of her throat, and she swore she felt Villanelle moan against her in kind. It was enough to make her cry out in pleasure, although she made sure that she didn’t say Villanelle’s name.

What was happening between them was simple but at the same time, oddly intricate. Eve didn’t dare disturb the balance by making it more intimate than it was supposed to be.

When her body came down for the second time she felt something was different. She opened her eyes to see Villanelle rising from the floor and climbing onto the bed. She was clambering over top of her. Eve was still a bit dazed from her second orgasm that evening- or was it morning?- and she hardly moved while Villanella crawled up the length of her. Her eyes drifted back shut and the most she could do was hum in appreciation as she felt Villanelle plant soft kisses along the lines of her ribs.

“Okay,” she murmured as she felt Villanelle hovering above her. She cracked open one eye. “You’re _really_ good at that, I’ll admit.”

Above her, Villanelle smirked. “Better than your spouse?”

Eve fought hard not to blush. It was made easier by the fact that her blood was still pulsing somewhere considerably lower than her cheeks. “My ex-husband. And yes, much better, not that you needed to know.”

Villanelle practically purred as she brought her lips to Eve’s neck. “You volunteered the information, Eve, not me.”

Eve began to tilt her head to allow Villanelle better access, but some part of her brain kicked in midway through the motion. “Wait,” she started and turned her head to Villanelle. “Come here.”

She snaked a hand around the back of Villanelle’s neck. Villanelle, for her part, didn’t resist her at all. She let Eve pull her up to her mouth. Eve tugged her forward and into a kiss. She had tasted herself before, on her ex-husband’s lips, but something about the taste of herself in Villanelle’s mouth drove her wild. She licked her tongue across her lips, tasting salt and her sex. She kissed Villanelle open-mouthed and devoured it all.

They kept on kissing. Eve was captivated by the tastes on Villanelle’s tongue, Villanelle was intoxicated by the soft touch of Eve’s lips. It was only when Eve’s hand moved lower, to the knot on Villanelle’s robe, that the younger woman suddenly pulled back. Not far, but enough, and Eve felt their kiss break with regret.

“You don’t have to-” Villanelle began, her eyes flickering down to Eve’s hand poised between them.

Eve tried not to frown. “You don’t want me to see you?” she asked, her voice low. She watched Villanelle as she tried to hide a shiver.

“I do,” she breathed. “I just do not want you to...”

“Touch you?”

“-to take control.” Villanelle’s eyes flicked back to Eve. Beyond the lust and the hunger, Eve saw the shadow of fear. It made sense, she realized. Villanelle had to submit once a month to the monster. It was only fair she would control what she could for the rest.

Eve let her other hand find Villanelle’s collarbones. She traced her fingers from there up the length of her neck. At the base of her jaw, she coaxed them over the shell of her ear, until they came to rest alongside the baby hairs at the base of her skull. “You can still have control.”

Above her, Villanelle’s eyes closed for a moment. She shuddered before opening them and looking at Eve again. “I don’t want it.”

“What?”

“I don’t-” she ducked her chin for a moment before she gathered herself again. “I want you to take it.”

She didn’t need to say more. Eve nodded and pulled her in for a kiss. As she did, she let her other hand trace lower along Villanelle’s ribs.

It wasn’t long before they’d surrendered to the gravity between them again. Villanelle kissed Eve hungrily, unconcerned about her insecurities, and Eve responded with alacrity, tracing lines across her skin. It took a not-insignificant amount of courage for her to reach for the sash again, but this time she heard no protestations from Villanelle.

Her hand worked awkwardly at the knot in between them. Thank god for satin- it came loose easily enough. The robe fell apart, two tectonic plates dividing, and Eve was left with the sight of Villanelle’s body in between. She pulled back from Villanelle’s mouth so she could take a proper look, and when Villanelle tried to kiss her again, Eve held her at bay.

Where the robe hung untied, there was pale skin left to greet her. Eve took it all in with the probing eyes of an art collector. Villanelle was pale and beautiful and full in the moonlight. She had beauty marks that dotted the space between her breasts.

Words came to Eve’s mind but she didn’t bother to say any of them. She simply pushed up off the bed and kissed along Villanelle’s chest. Villanelle’s breath hitched above her, trapped in her throat, and Eve was compelled by the significance of it as she set to work with her mouth. She grazed her lips across the swell of Villanelle’s breast. The other woman let out a shaky sigh at the feel of Eve’s mouth kissing across her, and Eve revelled in the sound of the air leaving her lungs.

It wasn’t long after that that she found the courage to move her hand lower. Villanelle shrugged out of the robe as Eve tiptoed her fingers against the dimples of her hips. She traced the outside of her thigh before she worked up the courage to move her hand elsewhere. She pulled her mouth away from Villanelle’s chest as her fingers traced at the apex of her thighs.

“Don’t be nervous,” Villanelle told her. Her words were broken apart by her heavy breathing. She was sprawled over top of Eve, her whole body on display. Eve wondered if she should have spent more time teasing out all its secrets, but one look at Villanelle’s eyes told her that this sequence of events was more than fine. She was waiting for the next moment with the same anticipation as Eve was, her body quivering above her in the moonlight. Eve kissed the underside of her jaw as she worked up the courage for the next step.

“I’m not,” she breathed. It wasn’t entirely true.

Her fingers danced inwards until they met wetness and warmth. She found it hard not to gasp at the feel of Villanelle beneath her fingertips. For her part, Villanelle pitched forward against her, something like a hiccup escaping her throat.

“You’ll tell me if-”

Eve was cut off by Villanelle’s lips finding her mouth. She kissed her hard and eager, and Eve took it as encouragement enough. She began working for fingers between Villanelle’s legs, and she quickly picked up on the cues of her body.

She kissed Eve at first, while Eve was exploring. When Eve touched her some place she liked more, she would break their kiss and breathe heavily, pressing their foreheads together. When Eve surprised her by touching her somewhere she wasn’t expecting, her hips twitched into her palm and seemed to ask for more.

Eventually, Eve kissed Villanelle at the same moment she decided to push her fingers inside her. It was delicious to swallow up Villanelle’s moan. From there it became clear that Villanelle was getting closer to the edge, and Eve obeyed every one of her body’s commands. The rocking of her hips that kept her fingers working inside her. The tilt of her pelvis that kept Eve’s palm against her skin. She pitched forwards and pressed her face into the crook of Eve’s neck. Eve felt her moan more than she heard it, the vibration and hot breath making art on her skin.

With Villanelle bent forwards, Eve had easy access to her back. Her other hand still working between Villanelle’s legs, she brought her free hand up and let her nails slide up her back. Not deep enough to mark, but certainly enough to get a response. She felt Villanelle’s breath catch before she whined against Eve’s throat.

Eve tilted her jaw towards Villanelle’s head, and the other woman took it as an invitation to kiss her. She pushed up even as her body trembled with how close she was to tumbling over the edge. She brought her mouth down to Eve’s, and Eve kissed her with a hunger as she curled her fingers inside her. It was enough.

She felt Villanelle’s body go rigid above her. She let out a high-pitched, breathy moan that Eve welcomed into her mouth. She gasped against Eve’s lips as she tried to keep breathing, but it was as though her lungs had stopped working as she rode out her high. For her part, Eve kept her fingers buried inside her, content to let Villanelle fall apart all around her.

When the moment passed, Villanelle went slack, collapsing forward against Eve and panting into her shoulder. It took her some time to get her breathing under control. When she did, she murmured playfully against Eve’s throat, “You are pretty good at that too.”

The laugh Eve let out was quiet but amused nonetheless. She wrapped her arms across Villanelle’s back and held her against her. Her other hand remained lower, still pressed in the sticky heat of Villanelle’s thighs. “I’m glad you think so.”

Rather than respond, Villanelle hummed contentedly. A few moments later she was pulling away from Eve’s neck. Her shoulders and chest followed, and Eve missed the comforting weight of them immediately. The only thing still connecting them was her hand between Villanelle’s legs, and that too fell away a moment later. Eve watched with fascination at the way Villanelle’s eyes drifted shut as she pulled her fingers from inside her. And then, just like that, they were distinct bodies once more.

Now came the part that Eve had been dreading. The riskiest part of their entire encounter; how to move forward. She watched Villanelle crawl away from her and into the centre of the enormous bed. Eve had to roll onto her side just to keep her eyes trained on her. She sighed heavily and pushed herself up from the mattress.

“I should-”

Just then, Villanelle made a clicking noise with her tongue, like she was beckoning her. Eve stood there naked, staring at her with uncomprehending eyes. “What?”

“Come here,” Villanelle commanded. She was sprawled in the centre of the bed like the subject of a Renaissance painting. If Eve’s mouth hadn’t been parched already, it would have dried up like a desert at the sight of her alone.

Instead, Eve ran her fingers through her sex-tussled hair. “I probably shouldn’t stay here.”

“Probably not,” Villanelle replied easily. She crooked a finger at Eve, beckoning her closer again.

Eve was crawling across the bed before she registered what her own body was doing. She laid down in the space next to Villanelle. They faced each other, and Eve let her eyes roam over Villanelle’s features. Only morning would tell her if that night had been a mistake. For now, she couldn’t find a hint of regret between them.

Still, she murmured, “Just for a bit. I probably shouldn’t sleep in here, either.”

Villanelle reached her hand up and tucked a strand of hair behind Eve’s ear. “Probably not,” she repeated easily. Eve couldn’t help a shy smile at the simple pleasure that the motion brought to her chest.

Pleasure and warmth and heady affection. A cocktail of feelings that was sure to be dangerous, especially now that they’d gone and had sex. Amazing sex, wonderful sex. The kind of sex that would ruin Eve for a long time to come. But she decided not to care about that until later; until she was gone from the bed.

Across the room, moonlight had begun to truly pour in through the windows. For the first time in a while, Eve wasn’t afraid of its light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that ended up longer than i had planned, classic me. only one chapter left to go, my friends.


	8. a bite that binds, a gift that gives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> took a bit longer than expected but here it is, the grand finale. thank you all so much for sticking with me til the end.

Against her better judgement, Eve did stay the night in Villanelle’s bed. They migrated beneath the covers eventually, and Eve simply found it too hard to leave when Villanelle began drifting off right beside her. She resolved to roll over, to put space between them, but even after the younger woman was sleeping soundly, Eve couldn’t bring herself to move very far. She rolled away- she certainly couldn’t continue _watching_ her- and eventually fell asleep with Villanelle at her back. By then it must have been nearing 3 in the morning, although she wasn’t entirely sure. Time passed differently within the confines of a bedroom.

When she awoke the next morning it was with the refreshing feeling of not having moved a single inch while she’d slept. She had been well and truly comatose. She’d dreamt, presumably, but she had no recollection of what those visions might have contained. In fact, there was a brief moment when she woke up where she didn’t quite remember the previous evening and why she was in someplace that was certainly not her bed.

The pressure of a woman’s arm slung low and light across her hip brought her memories back right away: leaving her room, walking to Villanelle’s, the jacket, the kiss, the... subsequent events. And falling asleep next to her in her bed, even though they’d dubiously agreed that she shouldn’t.

Dubiously was the operative word, of course. Villanelle had never told her to go. Eve hadn’t exactly offered.

So Eve awoke with Villanelle’s arm hooked over her waist. She didn’t hold her tight, and she wasn’t pressed against her back, but still, the contact was there. It sent a rush of affection through Eve’s chest and a blush across her cheeks. It had been nearly a decade since she’d had a fling, let alone a one night stand. She wasn’t sure yet where the events of last night would fall along the sexual encounter spectrum. Her leaving in a day or two didn’t help matters much. Although she supposed she could always come and visit Villanelle, in accordance with the phases of the moon, of course.

She sighed. For someone who was supposed to be closing a case, she certainly was contemplating leaving many loose ends. Or one large loose end in the form of a beautiful woman. Probably the single most important thing _not_ to leave... loose-ended. Eve shook her head to herself. She was being unrealistic.

Before she could delve further down that particular train of thought, she heard a soft groan from behind her and felt a tightening of the grip on her waist. She waited, holding her breath, as if anticipating that Villanelle would be upset to still find her there. There was a moment of silence, and then,

“You shouldn’t stop breathing like that, Eve, or else I will think I’ve gone and killed you in my sleep.”

Eve let out her breath in a quick, nervous sigh. “Would be pretty strange if you were holding a dead body all night. How would you even have killed me?”

She felt Villanelle’s weight shift in the bed, moving closer, and the next second she felt the press of her lips below her ear. “With amazing sex.”

The tone of her voice made Eve relax. She rolled her eyes and laughed. “You’re impossible.” She rolled over onto her back, and Villanelle stayed propped up on one elbow beside her.

The sheet that had been covering them had slid down Villanelle’s back as she’d moved. She hovered over Eve, the pale curves of her shoulders a stark contrast to the dull grey light of the room around them. Morning had come but the sun was still far in the east. The light pouring through the windows was gentle and dim.

Villanelle hummed softly in amusement before she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Eve’s lips. Eve couldn’t help the way she arched upwards into her. She lifted a hand to Villanelle’s neck and began tracing a line down her throat, along her collarbones, and across her chest. As she continued moving lower, beneath the swell of her breast and along her ribs, her hand came to a stop at the place where she thought she had stabbed her, so many weeks ago. Eve pulled back from their kiss.

“You really don’t have a mark all,” she breathed in amazement. She hadn’t noticed the night before; she had been rather pre-occupied with other pursuits. Now that she saw Villanelle’s body in daylight, she found herself wanting to study it again, to tease out those secrets that weren’t at all related to sex.

Villanelle looked down to where Eve’s fingers were pressed against her skin. “No, I don’t.” She sighed wistfully. “Oh well.”

She rolled dramatically onto her back. Eve followed her with her eyes, her hand falling back down to the bed. She watched her for a moment before she decided it was her turn to roll over.

“No scars at all then?” She asked as she propped a hand against her cheek and looked down at the other woman. Her eyes flicked to Villanelle’s exposed shoulder; sure enough, not even a blemish remained of the wound from the slug of Arthur’s shotgun.

Villanelle wasn’t meeting Eve’s eyes. For a moment, she appeared uncomfortable. Eve hoped she hadn’t offended her somehow; they were inadvertently talking about her condition, of course.

Then, the shadow passed, and Villanelle looked over at her. “Just one,” she offered mildly, as though it was as inconsequential as the weather. Maybe it was, but Eve’s curiosity got the better of her.

“Oh?” She leaned forward and ran her fingers along Villanelle’s ribs, playing them like the strings of a harp. “Why did this one stay when the others didn't?”

Villanelle kept her gaze locked on Eve even as she brought her hand up to lock her fingers around Eve’s wrist, forcibly stopping her from touching her. “Do you want to know this story?”

Eve felt her heart clench in her chest. She wasn’t sure where their conversation was leading them, but it was certainly someplace far less playful than the morning-after bed. Still, she nodded slowly. “Yes.”

Villanelle dropped her hand then and began to sit up in the bed. She pushed the covers down her legs until they bunched at her feet. She bent forward so she could reach for her calf. Pushing the muscle to one side, closer to Eve, she drew a semi-circular line with her fingertip. Eve could see white, uneven scar tissue there, and once Villanelle was done with her tracing, Eve could clearly see the pattern of a bite.

“It is the only thing that has stayed.” Villanelle’s eyes remained fixed on her scar. Eve itched to take a closer look, but she wasn’t sure if she should. Villanelle continued, “Even the scars I had from before my... condition, they all vanished over time. But this-” she pulled at the scar so Eve could see the puncture marks of sharp, canine teeth, “-this has always stayed.”

It took Eve a moment to piece it together, but once she did, she looked at Villanelle, aghast. “This is how you became... what you are?”

Villanelle turned to meet Eve’s gaze and nodded. “Yes. It is like a disease without a cure, transmitted like this, I suppose.” Her fingers brushed absently along the scar.

“How old were you when it happened?” Eve asked. She found her eyes flitting between Villanelle’s face and her scar. Eve wanted to hold her gaze, to give her whatever support and reassurances she could, but at the same time, she found that she was compelled to look at the scar. It wasn’t ugly or ghastly, just physical evidence of something unpleasant. Similar to drivers who couldn’t tear their gaze away from a car crash, Eve found it incredibly hard to look away.

“I was seven, I think,” Villanelle replied softly. She seemed lost in the memory, hardly even noticing as Eve shifted closer to her. She didn’t appear small or vulnerable, simply lost. Her voice had a strange, dispassioned tone as she continued.

“One night, I had a nightmare. I went wandering through the house- we lived in such a small house, back then. I woke up my brother. He was too scared, though, to come with me, so I went alone.”

It was the first Eve had heard of her brother, the first she had really heard of her childhood at all. She could’ve asked so many questions but she held her tongue. There was a weight to the story that demanded no interruptions.

“I was looking for my mother and father but they weren’t in their bed. Our house was small and cold, and I remember it feeling even colder than usual. When I came to the front, the door was wide open. I walked outside into the night, and above me was a cloudless sky.”

For the first time since she’d started her tale, Villanelle looked at Eve. “Did I ever tell you that I grew up in rural Russia? No cities around at all. On a cloudless night-” she made a motion with her hand like a bomb exploding, “-a million stars in the sky. Tiny night lights for small children with cruel mothers.”

She smiled fondly at some memory and Eve moved her hand to cover one of Villanelle’s, stroking her skin softly with her thumb. Villanelle continued.

“It was cloudless but the stars were dimmer than normal. The moon was full and bright and big, and it made everything else seem dull. I walked down the front lane until I saw blood on the path. I followed it, and it weaved off into the field beside our home. Eventually, I found my father.”

Villanelle paused, sighing heavily as though the story were exhausting to tell. Eve squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“He was bleeding badly from a gash in his neck-” she mimed a large slashing motion, drawing her finger from her ear lobe, below her chin, and down her neck to the opposite collarbone. “-and several wounds in his chest. He was propped awkwardly against a boulder, facing me as I wandered through the field. He was dead, but his body was still warm.”

Villanelle had never mentioned her father before. Eve wondered what kind of man he had been.

Villanelle frowned to herself at some thought and began to answer Eve’s unspoken question. “I was closer to my father than my mother, even though sometimes we did not get along at all. My mother was like stone; cold and detached. My father was... like water. He could be both nurturing and unforgiving. When I found him there, I ran to him and collapsed against his chest.”

Eve wanted to reach out and pull Villanelle to her. To cradle her and comfort her even if this particular tragedy was long passed. She didn’t, though, because there was still more to come. Dread coated her stomach, thick and heavy like tar.

“My mother found me soon enough. I didn’t know it was her, in that moment. I only found out the truth of it later. But I heard snarling and growling, and I turned and saw her- and she was as you saw me on the night of the full moon. I screamed and ran but I was just a child and she was this beast. She caught me by the calf and bit me hard.”

Again, Villanelle ran her hand along the jagged scar on her leg. “The rest is history,” she murmured. “Mama didn’t kill me that night. I don’t know why. She didn’t kill me any other night either, although she could have. Sometimes I wish she would’ve. Instead, somehow I wound up back home, barely holding onto life. I was bedridden for weeks after that night, sick with a fever. I hallucinated often, and even convinced myself that what I had seen that night was a lie. Some delusion brought on by the sight of seeing my father’s dead body. I convinced myself that the monster had been a figment of my imagination, and the bite had been caused by a rabid or diseased wolf. I convinced myself I was dying, and my mother fed into the lie. She told my brother I had been attacked by a wild animal, the same that had killed my father, and that my wound was infected and very contagious. She forbade him from seeing me- I think she did it in case I became lucid and remembered what had actually happened that night. I think she was hoping the sickness would take me.”

Eve was speechless. Villanelle’s own mother had cursed her with her condition. That, with the murder of her father and the isolation away from her brother, was several kinds of tragedy rolled into one. Eve felt vindicated in her decision to hate the woman in the photograph. She was more certain than ever that Villanelle’s mother deserved it.

Unaware of Eve’s emotions, Villanelle shrugged absentmindedly and continued her story. “When I didn’t die, I think she resented me. I don’t know if she had really meant to infect me, that night. Maybe she was hoping the sickness would take me and give her an easy way out of facing the consequences. Instead, nearly four weeks later, my fever broke. I began to regain my strength incredibly quickly. She couldn’t keep me locked in my room for much longer. My brother wanted to see me and she was running out of reasons not to let him to so. Then, the solution to her problems presented itself quickly enough – a few nights later, it was the full moon again.”

Eve let out a shaky breath, anticipation on her tongue. “You changed.”

“Yes.” Villanelle tilted her head as she remembered that night, years ago. “It was so much pain for such a tiny little body. My bones breaking and repositioning. Whole structures rearranging. My jaw-” she moved her hand to her chin as if feeling phantom pains even then, “-so many changes. Big, sharp teeth trying to fit into a child’s mouth. And the hair. I hated the hair most of all.”

“Why?”

“It was black like my father’s. Still is.”

Eve rubbed her thumb across the back of Villanelle’s hand. She didn’t know what to say or where to begin, so she started with the simplest statement. “I’m sorry about your father.”

Villanelle looked to Eve. “There is no need to apologize, Eve, as I said, he was far from a perfect man. But sometimes I still think about what my mother did to him. Sometimes I...,” she trailed off, as though she was undecided on whether she should voice her thoughts out loud.

Eve nudged her lightly with her shoulder, coaxing her gently. “Sometimes you what?”

Villanelle’s gaze had shifted to their intertwined hands. “Sometimes I think about going back and finding her. Doing _something_ to her, I suppose, to- to punish her for what she did to my father, and to me.”

“Do you think that would help you?” Eve murmured softly.

“I don’t know,” Villanelle sighed.

Eve let it go. A moment of silence passed between them before Eve spoke up again. “What happened after you changed for the first time? You said it was the solution to your mother’s problems?”

Villanelle nodded. “Yes. You see, my father had known what she was, and they had done some of the same things you saw below the manor; a cell, chains, a locked door. Together they had kept my mother’s monster at bay well enough over the years. However, as you know, mistakes can happen. There had been a few instances in the village of people gone missing under the full moon, or fields of livestock slaughtered in the night. Enough to keep people on edge, but not enough to arouse suspicions.”

Villanelle’s voice began to take on the faraway tone of a storyteller. Eve clung to every word she spoke, anxious of what might come despite it already being so many years in the past.

“The night I transformed, my mother showed me the place where she had been locked away some nights by my father. It was a stone cellar, like the one here, but I didn’t even know it had existed at our house. Its entrance was hidden under branches. Intentional, obviously. She led me down and showed me the room my father locked her in. It was... rudimentary, but functional. She stepped inside and showed me how to lock the door. I did so, and we stood a few moments staring at each other like that. I have to admit, I liked seeing her in that cage.”

“Then I felt pain everywhere. I remember falling and grasping at the cell door. I heard bones snapping. I remember looking up at my mother, and she was changing too, but slower. Her eyes went first, glowing yellow, and when she smiled at me I could see her teeth sharpening into fangs. Then I knew what she’d done to me. I knew that what I’d seen that night in the field had been real. She was the monster who had killed my father, and now she’d made me her unwanted cub.” Villanelle shook her head. Whether in anger or resignation, Eve couldn’t quite tell.

“She crouched down to meet me on the other side of the door and the last thing I remember of that night is what she told me through the bars of her cell. ‘I’m sorry, Oksana, but for what it is worth, I don’t think they’ll kill you.’“

Eve felt her hand clenching into a fist. “How could she-” she started, but Villanelle kept on with the story, determined to see its end.

“I finished the change and that’s it. I don’t remember what I did that night. I woke up in a field, covered in blood. My clothes were all tattered. My mother was crouching next to me- I learned later that, when morning had come, she’d screamed and made noise in the cell until my brother heard and came down to free her. She told him it was me who’d locked her away, that I was suffering from some sickness of the mind, from my wound.”

“She came and found me in that field and when I woke up she smiled. ‘Terrible things’, she said to me. ‘You’ve done terrible things’. When I sat up and looked around, a group of townsfolk were coming towards us. My mother began faking hysteria, pretending to be distraught at what I’d done, and what the townsfolk were going to do. Apparently, I had slaughtered some animals at a nearby property and gouged out a man’s eye when he’d nearly caught me. Of course, my mother was quick to tell them it had been me, because of the wound in my leg and my recent sickness, and because I had always been a little strange. She told them she’d seen my transformation under the light of the full moon. She’d hidden away with my brother and prayed I wouldn’t kill them. She cried for the child she had lost even as I sat there in the dirt, shaking. I thought they were going to kill me....” Villanelle trailed off.

“But they didn’t,” Eve murmured, hoping to find some positive in the terrible story of Villanelle’s past.

“No, they didn’t. They did take me away though, to the city, to the hospital. I think, while they believed my mother when she said I was cursed, they also still saw me as a child of the village. They had known my family for years and had watched my brother and I grow up. They believed I was sick with some kind of illness and they didn’t want to sentence me to die. So, they sent me off to that hospital and, well, I think you know the rest.”

Eve sat in silence as the final moments of Villanelle’s story settled over her. Her own mother had made her into the monster, and then had sold her out for it. It had anger and grief making an unpleasant stew of her emotions. Her blood boiled while her heart ached. For her part, Villanelle didn’t seem fazed at all. Some parts of the story had been painful in their telling, but now that it was done with, she was back to her unbothered self. Eve envied her resilience. She told her as much.

“You’ve been through so much, it’s a bit incredible you aren’t...”

“Crazy?”

“I was thinking ‘worse’. You could've turned out so much worse.”

Villanelle cocked an eyebrow and regarded Eve with a small, amused smile. “Why thank you, Eve, that is nearly the worst compliment I have ever received.”

Eve rolled her eyes. “I just meant-”

“I know what you meant,” Villanelle replied quickly, cutting her off. Then she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Eve’s lips. “Compliments are not your forte, Eve.”

“Apparently not,” she conceded, her lips ghosting against Villanelle’s. It felt like they may be straying into a different kind of intimacy, so Eve spoke up before the moment passed them by. “Thank you for telling me the story,” she murmured.

Villanelle pulled back slightly so she could look Eve in the eyes. “I ended up telling you everything after all.”

Eve watched her, looking for any sign of regret. She felt a knot in her chest unravel when she found none. She had been so driven, in the beginning, to learn everything she could. Now she found that she just wanted the other woman to be happy. “I hope you didn’t feel obligated to,” she said, cautiously.

Villanelle smiled and shook her head. “Not at all. It is surprisingly nice to have someone know everything.”

“Konstantin-?” Eve began to ask.

Villanelle cut her off swiftly with a shake of her head. “Konstantin doesn’t count, Eve.”

Eve felt laughter bubble to her lips, and she let it out without restraint. It soothed the roiling emotions inside of her, and when Villanelle pulled her close again, she found the only feeling remaining was a weightless kind of joy.

* * *

They made it down to the kitchen by late morning, having spent a few hours longer basking in the easy glow of daybreak. Eve was pleased that things were so simple between them. There was no awkwardness or shame surrounding their night together, and Villanelle seemed intent on continuing with her small displays of affection even as they left her bedroom. She would drag her fingers along Eve’s shoulder as she passed by, or press her lips to the top of her head, and Eve would feel contentment settle in her heart like a long lost relic finally coming home.

When they had first left Villanelle’s bedroom, Eve had had nothing but her pyjamas to wear, and she’d had a good laugh at herself at the thought of a ‘walk of shame’ from the west to the east wing. Villanelle herself had gotten dressed in black jeans and a grey blazer with a lowcut white blouse underneath. It was entirely unfair of her to do it, as it was an outfit Eve immediately found herself drooling over.

“You look like a CEO,” she’d told her.

Villanelle had laughed as she’d shaken her hair out and run her hand through it lazily. “I like to look good, Eve.”

“Of course you do.” Eve hadn’t told her that it was impossible for her not to.

Once they had left Villanelle's bedroom, Villanelle had walked with her down to the landing at the midway point along the grand staircase. She had stopped in front of the altar, and Eve had turned to face her.

“I don’t think I should follow you up there,” Villanelle told her, jutting her chin towards the eastern stairs.

“Oh. Are you worried about Konstantin?”

“No, Eve, not at all.” Villanelle laughed. “I just do not think it would be smart for me to follow you into another bedroom this morning.” With that, she winked, and her lips curled into a salacious grin.

Eve felt warmth rush to now-familiar places, low in her belly and lower still, but she forced herself not to respond too obviously. Sure, they’d had sex already, but she refused to give Villanelle the satisfaction of seeing her want her. It was the principle of the thing.

“Good idea,” she replied, and while she tried to sound firm, her voice came out like a croak instead. Villanelle grinned wider.

Before she could make another ill-disguised advance, Eve turned her attention to the altar. The candelabra was lit again (it was Konstantin then, who kept this vigil, she realized) and the photograph stood within reach. Eve gestured at it. “Is that your mother?”

Villanelle turned to look at the small picture frame next to them. She reached and picked it up, running her fingers along the glass. “Yes, it is.”

Eve frowned. “If you hate her so much, and for good reason, why keep the reminder? Especially someplace you’re always going to see it?”

Villanelle sighed. “Konstantin’s idea, really. I took it from my home when they sent me to the city. While packing my things, I stole it and threw it in my bag. It was my reminder of why what was happening to me had happened. When I was at my lowest moments, I would look at this, and be angry instead. It was...”

“It was what got you through it,” Eve murmured, realization dawning on her.

“Yes,” Villanelle nodded. “Two years in the hospital. 24 moon cycles. Twice as many or more changes, each as painful as the last. I killed nurses and doctors and tried to kill patients, too. Did Nadia tell you I bit her once? If I had done so in my other form... well. I would have had a whole litter of friends to play with in the moonlight.” She said it as a joke but her voice was mirthless. “Anyway. When I hated myself the most, I would look at this picture and remember. And the anger kept me going.”

“And now?” Eve asked.

Villanelle shrugged. “And now... less so. I think Konstantin keeps it here not to remind me of _her_ specifically, but to remind me of where I came from. He likes to say that I’ve come quite far since then.”

“-And you have-” The voice came from over Eve’s shoulder, and she jumped in surprise at the suddenness of it. Turning around, she saw Konstantin standing at the top of the eastern staircase, dressed in a pair of jeans and a wool sweater. “Good morning,” he greeted, his eyes roaming over the two of them.

Villanelle took the opportunity to put the picture back on the altar. Eve turned around and faced Konstantin with a timid smile. She was, of course, dressed only in her shorts and baggy t-shirt. She tried not to flush with embarrassment.

“I’m just going to-” she ducked her head and began to climb the stairs hurriedly.

Konstantin stepped to the side and out of her way before he turned back to Villanelle on the landing. “Breakfast?”

Villanelle’s eyes trained after Eve even as she rounded the corner into the hallway and vanished from sight. “I suppose,” she sighed wistfully, and the regretful lilt of her voice followed Eve down the hall, sending a shiver down her spine with its obvious desire.

Had Konstantin not interrupted them, she might’ve followed Eve to the bedroom after all.

Eve got dressed quickly and made her way to the kitchen. She hadn’t checked her phone, feeling an insurmountable amount of dread from so much as even looking at it. Here little vacation would be over soon enough, and she had come to the conclusion that she would deal with everything she’d been avoiding only after her time at the manor was over.

Once she was downstairs, in the kitchen, Eve sat at the table and asked several times whether or not she could help with anything. Konstantin and Villanelle both politely declined as the two of them got set to making breakfast. 

Not long later, Konstantin and Villanelle brought plates to the table. They had cooked up a veritable feast, and Eve, seeing the food, realized just how hungry she was. She began to load her plate with eggs and sausage and fruit and anything else she could get her hands on. The three of them ate in an easy silence as they focused on stuffing their faces with food.

Eventually, Villanelle broke the silence by gesturing her fork at Eve. “Eve-” she spoke around a mouthful of half-chewed egg, “-I just remembered something.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I have been meaning to apologize for wrecking your car.”

It was the last thing Eve had expected, and she was sure the surprise showed on her face. “Oh, well, it wasn’t my car, it was the Turners’-” she let the memory of that night, weeks ago, wash over her, “-but you did scare me pretty bad. You, uh, you killed a guy right in front of me, and then slashed my tire, effectively stranding me in the woods.”

Villanelle winced and pulled her mouth into an ‘oops’ kind of expression. “Sorry,” she mouthed, as Konstantin cleared his throat beside her. Villanelle glanced over at him and rolled her eyes before turning back to Eve.“Konstantin would like to tell you something.”

Eve looked over at Konstantin. The man was glaring at Villanelle. Villanelle looked at him and waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Yes, Konstantin?” Eve prompted him.

Konstantin rolled his eyes. “I was just wondering if you have figured out yet why Arthur Turner never saw any blood on his car.”

“Oh, uh... no, I guess not?” Eve hadn’t thought about Arthur Turner or his car in weeks. “But I get the sense you’re about to tell me?”

Villanelle grinned and patted Konstantin on the shoulder. “Konstantin is my clean up man. The times when I do go a little... overboard. He makes sure to cover the tracks.”

Eve looked back and forth between the two of them. “You mean... you cleaned the car before Arthur went out to get it?”

Konstantin nodded. “And before the charming inspector made it there too, apparently.”

Eve let the news settle over her. “And... you’ve always done this? Protected her like that in case she goes too far?”

Konstantin shrugged one shoulder in a lazy sort of confirmation. “I try. If she cannot be prevented from getting loose, I try to make sure the damage is minimal. And if I cannot prevent that, I try to make sure there is very little evidence left to condemn her.”

“So you... washed the blood off the windshield that night?”

Konstantin nodded. “Once I knew where she’d gone, I followed. She was long gone by the time I got there, and so were you. I did what I could to clean up the car. The body... I had to leave there. By then it was too late for me to do much. The campgrounds had already been... well, you know how it went. The car seemed to be about all I could do.”

“He is such a softie,” Villanelle teased, reaching to pinch at Konstantin’s cheek. He leaned away before she could, and she dropped her hand to his shoulder, giving him a playful pat. “He likes me so much. Always looking out for me.”

Eve watched the exchange in silence. Her opinion of Konstantin had changed since she’d first arrived at Blackmoor. He was still far from perfect, but it was clear he had done what he could to keep Villanelle from being detected. She wondered, suddenly, what he had given up to protect her. What had he left behind in order to give her the chance at a better life?

Villanelle turned her attention away from Konstantin and towards Eve. “So, what would you like to do today, Eve?” She had a dangerous glint in her eyes. Eve swallowed a large mouthful of food rather painfully.

“Just... hang around, I guess?” She choked.

Konstantin’s eyes flickered between Villanelle and Eve. They narrowed. “What is-”

“'I'm going to do the dishes,” Eve blurted out. “Everyone’s done? Great, great.” She stood up hurriedly and began clearing the table.

From behind her, she heard Konstantin mutter, “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Villanelle replied, her voice taking on an innocent tone. “Mind your own business, uncle.”

Konstantin grunted as he pushed back from the table. “Of all the things you could do to kill me, I think it will be your insolence that finally does me in.”

“That’s very rude, Konstantin-” Villanelle pushed back from the table then too, “-I like to think it will be my very sharp teeth.”

At that, Konstantin laughed loud. Eve turned and watched him wag a finger in Villanelle’s face. “Your teeth are not so sharp now, no?”

Villanelle pretended to bite at him. “Not now, but soon,” she told him. It wasn’t a threat, merely a statement of fact.

Konstantin nodded. “Soon, yes.” He sighed and turned towards Eve. “Let me help you with those,” he said as he walked over and took up space next to her at the sink.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Eve blustered. She turned so that they were both facing the sink, and she began running water into the basin.

Villanelle’s voice rang from behind them. “When you’re done, Eve, come find me?”

“Yep!” Eve called back, refusing to turn around. She could hear the hint of a tease in Villanelle’s voice, and she didn’t trust herself not to blush as Villanelle's voice met her back. 

Villanelle’s walked off and Eve listened to her footsteps retreating from the room. She was truly alone with Konstantin for the first time since coming to the manor. It didn’t feel nearly as awkward as it might’ve, although it was certainly far from comfortable. They began to work at the dishes in silence, Eve washing, Konstantin drying.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “So, you will be leaving soon, is that right?”

Eve nodded as she scrubbed at a stubborn skillet. “Yes. After she... changes. The deal was that I would see it for myself.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why?” Konstantin repeated. “Why do you need to see it? Is it not enough to have witnessed her kill a man? Kill Nadia? You have seen the beast, Eve. Why do you linger?”

Eve was taken aback for a moment, unsure of what to say. Why did she want to see if for herself? It had been to learn more, to understand ‘why’ and ‘how’ the murders had happened, not just to stop at knowing ‘what’. But that seemed like a lifetime ago, and her motivations no longer felt the same.

“I... wanted to understand how she became this way,” Eve answered. It was the truth, but it still felt hollow to say out loud.

“And you know now, don’t you?” Eve turned and looked at Konstantin. He continued, “I heard your conversation this morning before I interrupted. She told you about her mother.”

“Yes,” Eve breathed.

“Then you got the answers you were looking for,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Yes, but-”

“No,” he interrupted. “There is nothing left for you to gain here, Eve, don’t you see?” He turned his attention back to the sink and began drying a freshly cleaned pot. “You learned what you wanted to learn.”

“It’s not just that, it’s-” Eve stopped herself before she said something she might regret. She had to think carefully about her next words. Konstantin was too shrewd for her to go babbling without thinking. “It’s more than just that,” she finished lamely.

“Is it?” He glanced sideways at her before looking back at the dishes. “You should be very careful, Eve, that you do not let yourself get too attached to your life here. It isn’t real.”

“That’s not fair,” Eve shot at him, her voice low and sharp. “I have to go back to London, but I wish-”

“You wish what? To stay?”

Eve clamped her mouth shut. She glared at him at he met her stare with a level gaze. When she didn’t elaborate, he sighed. “Since I can’t change your mind, you should know- it begins slowly now that she’s older. We’ll have some time to get her to the cellar. Then, it will happen all at once. It is unpleasant to watch. Then... she is gone. Whoever you think she is, she is not there inside the beast. Remember that, Eve.”

Eve’s lips were pressed into a thin line. She saw herself cowering underneath Villanelle’s wolfly form. Felt the name ‘Oksana’ tumble from her lips. She could argue with Konstantin, tell him what had happened that night, but it was clear he was too set in his ways to see otherwise. So, she simply nodded tersely and turned back to the sink. “Thank you, I’ll remember that.”

He grunted and turned to the dishes as well, and they continued their chore in silence.

The rest of the day passed easily enough. Eve found Villanelle in the parlour room after lunch, and they wasted away the afternoon in each other's company, keeping it appropriate, for the most part, aside from the occasional hungry kiss when they could be sure Konstantin was nowhere nearby.

It was lazy and decadent and painfully bittersweet. The day passed by cruelly quick, and the sky was darkening far earlier than Eve would have thought possible. Soon enough the sun would be gone completely, and the moon would inevitably rise.

“Do you get nervous?” Eve asked suddenly, craning her neck to look at Villanelle. They were together on the chaise lounge, sprawled out like lovers. Villanelle was running her fingers along Eve’s arm absentmindedly.

“No, not really. It is a bit annoying to not know when it is coming but I can’t do much to change that.”

Eve sat up and turned to look at her more clearly. “What do you mean you don’t know when it’s coming?”

Villanelle shrugged. “It is not an exact science. The moon remains visible long into the morning, but usually, I am only changed until sunrise. And sometimes, I don’t even change until midnight, when the moon is at its peak, even if it rises in the evening.” She shrugged again. “You know, the full moon technically lasts only an instant, but my transformation continues for hours, and sometimes several nights in a row. It really is a toss-up every single time.”

Eve felt her jaw drop open a bit in shock. “That sounds... inconvenient.”

Villanelle tilted her head to the side. “Yes, I suppose it can be.”

“So how do you prepare, then?”

“I don’t. Konstantin prepares the cellar, but otherwise, we just wait. Once it begins, it is obvious.”

“Oh,” Eve breathed. The reality of what was going to happen was beginning to settle in. Villanelle may not have been nervous, but anxiety was making a home in Eve’s ribcage, fluttering around like a hummingbird in captivity.

“It will be fine, Eve,” Villanelle told her soothingly. She pressed a hand along Eve’s back and pull her down to her chest. The gesture was nice, but it did little to calm the mounting fear in Eve’s heart.

Dinner, when it came time for it, was a bit of a sombre affair. While Villanelle was her usual flamboyant self, Eve and Konstantin appeared to have melancholia in spades. Between the two of them they tempered Villanelle’s carefree attitude, and the meal was eaten with very little conversation between them.

Afterwards, Konstantin excused himself to his study while Villanelle led Eve to the parlour room. She took a seat at the grand piano. Eve stood in the room, watching her, as she let her fingers hover above the keys.

“It could happen tonight or tomorrow night, really,” Villanelle murmured. “Sometimes it is early... sometimes... it’s not exact, I told you.”

It sounded as though she were trying to defend herself. Eve frowned and crossed the room until she was standing on the other side of the piano. “It happens when it happens,” she told her. Villanelle smiled briefly before turning her attention to the keys.

“Would you like to hear me play?”

Eve nodded and sat in a nearby chair. Villanelle rolled her shoulders and began to play.

Eve had never been a great music aficionado. She couldn’t recognize classical works just by a few notes but Villanelle’s playing rang familiar somehow. She must have heard it somewhere before. It was slow and methodical, a series of repeating notes that resonated deep in her chest, accented by others; most high and sharp, some low and hollow. The cyclical nature of it threatened to lull her into a trance, and yet, even so much as closing her eyes felt like a betrayal, somehow.

Outside the tall windows, darkness had fully settled. It was pitch black out, so dark that Eve could barely see the trees where they huddled just beyond the glass. The sun had set, but the moon had yet to rise. She wondered if Villanelle’s transformation would come that night or the next. She had thought she had one more free night? Or had she been mistaken? Was the universe really that cruel?

Villanelle’s fingers continued their slow pattern along the keys. Eve turned her focus on her instead, pulling her gaze away from the darkness outside the windows and settling it on the woman at the piano. Villanelle hardly moved; she was focused entirely on the motion of her hands, the placement of her fingers. Every so often she would lean forward in emphasis of a particular note. Eve wondered where she had learned to play.

It wasn’t a sad song, exactly, but it tugged at Eve’s heart all the same. The repetition of it made it feel like a chase she couldn’t escape, or prey she could never catch. It was slow and maddening, and yet, it was varied enough to keep her attention. It seemed like a simple enough piece but Villanelle remained completely fixed upon the piano, and Eve remained fixed on her in turn.

Several minutes later, Eve listened as Villanelle’s playing came to a close. Her fingers pressed the keys and lingered, creating a drawn-out, sombre note. She repeated it again, holding slightly longer, and then, the final echoes fading away, she sat back and looked to Eve.

“That was beautiful,” Eve murmured. “Thank you. What was it?”

“The first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.” Villanelle’s gaze shifted to the windows for a moment before returning to Eve.

Eve let herself a small chuckle. “That’s very fitting.”

“Yes, it is.” Villanelle turned her gaze to the piano keys again. “It’s starting.”

She said it so quietly, so devoid of urgency, that Eve almost missed the meaning of it. Then, it dawned on her, and she sat up in a rush and began to panic. “What?! How do you know? What- what do I do?”

Villanelle looked up at Eve and pointedly back at the piano. Eve frowned and walked over to her frantically. When she could see down the length of the keys, she let out a small gasp. A good number of them were marked by small fingerprints of blood. She looked to Villanelle.

“First sign.” Villanelle lifted her hands, palms towards Eve, and Eve saw trails of blood running down her fingers.

“What- what does that-”

“It’s these,” Villanelle told her, turning her hands over. There, protruding from her cuticles, were small, black, pointed nails. They seemed to be growing right out of her skin, overtop of her expertly-manicured human fingernails. Blood trickled from the skin around the base of them where they had punctured the skin and were cracking the nails underneath.

“God,” Eve whispered, her eyes fixed on Villanelle’s slowly-growing claws. “Does it hurt?”

“I would not call it comfortable.”

Eve looked up at her and watched her run her tongue over her teeth. Fear gripped her heart. It was really happening. “Do you- are you-?” She couldn’t get the words past her tongue.

Villanelle seemed to know what she was getting at, and she gestured her head towards the hallway to the gallery. “Get Konstantin,” she instructed.

“Okay, okay,” Eve began muttering to herself. “I can do that, yeah.” She straightened up and began to turn away. Then, she stopped herself. She turned back suddenly. Villanelle sat watching her, hands resting again on the keys of the piano.

“I don’t think you’re a monster.”

Villanelle cocked an eyebrow.

“At least,” Eve continued. “Not any more than anyone else is, deep down inside. You just... had it harder.”

“Thank you, Eve.” Villanelle smiled and nodded her head in appreciation. “Now- Konstantin, please?”

“Right- shit-” Eve turned abruptly and began to scamper into the other room, hurrying to find Villanelle’s uncle.

Konstantin’s rooms were the only in the manor Eve had yet to explore. She’d never felt a great need to after her initial tour with Villanelle. All of the most important and interesting things were sure to have been found with her; why would Eve need to wander beyond that? Sure, she had entertained the idea of rifling through his things for information, but that had quickly become unnecessary once she’d begun spending more time with Villanelle.

Konstantin’s study, though, did try very hard to divert her attention from the matter at hand. She burst into the room feeling completely out of breath, although crossing the gallery really hadn't been that great of a distance at all. Konstantin was seated near the window in a small armchair, his nose in a book. At Eve’s sudden entrance, he looked up at her curiously. Eve, taken by the study around her, momentarily forgot what had brought her there.

Konstantin’s office was every bit as gorgeous and glamorous as Eve should have expected it to be. Konstantin was an understated man, for the most part, but she’d seen in him the same glimmer of possessive materialism that ran so rampant in his niece. Eve supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised; a man who won the lottery had money to spend, and he had certainly decked out his study with an assortment of pricey looking decorations. Like the gallery, small pieces of artwork were scattered about the room, and the bookshelves were full to bursting. Eve would never have thought him a cultured man, but perhaps she’d had him wrong.

In the armchair, Konstantin cleared his throat. It brought Eve’s attention back to the matter at hand, and she gestured wildly over her shoulder.

“It’s happening.”

Konstantin huffed and set aside his book. “Here we go.” He pushed himself out of the armchair and made for the door. Eve stepped to the side to let him pass. He was the expert, after all.

He led the way briskly back to the parlour room. Villanelle was still there, although she no longer sat at the piano. She stood at the windows, looking out into the darkness. She didn’t look any different than she had a few moments ago, but still, Eve ran her eyes over the length of her, searching for any sign of the monster to come.

“Villanelle. Ready?” Konstantin called to her.

Villanelle turned. “Yes.”

She came to meet them and Konstantin turned towards the front entryway. He began to walk out of the room and towards the front hall, and Villanelle followed behind. Eve brought up the rear. “What, uh- what should I do?” she asked, nervously.

“Nothing,” Konstantin replied gruffly from the front. “You are watching _only._ ”

Villanelle turned towards Eve and rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “He is all business.” As the words fell from her lips, Eve thought she could her teeth looking sharper within her mouth. She couldn’t quite be certain, and she wasn't sure if she should ask Villanelle to show her.

Villanelle continued, “Just stay nearby and that will be enough.”

Eve nodded, feeling more and more as though she were walking through a dream. A month of preparation and it was becoming clear she hadn’t come to terms with the truth of it at all. In fact, the weeks of separation between Villanelle’s last transformation and the one about to happen had likely done the opposite of preparing her.

The three of them made it to the main hall. Konstantin reached first for Villanelle’s coat, then for Eve’s, from where they hung on a nearby coat rack. He passed them to them before shrugging on his own, and then he was opening the front door in order to lead them out and around to the cellar.

The night air was cold, colder than was pleasant, and their breath left them like smoke from chimney stacks, billowing and bloated. There were few clouds in the sky, and Eve found the moon quickly enough. It was still low, but it was a beacon, and it cast its ghostly glow on the manor’s grounds. Eve’s eyes darted to Villanelle but the other woman showed no signs of being affected by its light. At least, not any more than she already was.

They made their from the front towards the side of the house. Konstantin walked hurriedly, but without any outward sign of panic, and Eve tried to copy him. Villanelle herself seemed in good spirits, although she occasionally would wince and stumble as some part of her body began its metamorphosis.

“I imagined it would be a lot more... violent,” Eve spoke up suddenly, mostly just to fill the silence. Gravel crunched under their shoes as they crossed a patch of the road in order to cut around the house.

“Oh, it is,” Villanelle assured her grimly. “You just haven’t seen the good part yet.”

Just as they approached the corner of the house, a shadow stepped out from around the corner. Before they could react, the man, as they could see him now in the moonlight, swung something in his hand and struck Konstantin in the side of his head. He crumpled like a rag doll, and Eve couldn’t help but scream.

“Sorry-” the man grunted, “-but I’m afraid I’m not to be letting you back there.”

He was a hulking figure, over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a bald head. In his hand, he held a lead pipe. He didn’t move closer to them, he only stood there, blocking their path.

“What the fuck are you-” Villanelle began, but before she could finish, a second man appeared behind them and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides.

“No!” Eve cried. “Stop!”

She reached for Villanelle’s attacker, but then the man with the lead pipe stepped quickly towards her and locked his hand around her wrist. He twisted her so that her back was pressed against his chest, and he held the lead pipe across her chest, holding her tight.

“None of that, if you please,” the man told her.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Eve shouted. She struggled in the man’s arms. "You don't understand-!"

From behind her, she suddenly heard the snide, unmistakable voice of Raymond. He stepped out from the shadows along the side of the house and into their little encounter. “I understand exactly what I’m doing, Ms. Polastri."

“If you killed him-” Villanelle spoke up suddenly, nodding at Konstantin’s limp form on the ground, “-I’ll kill you with my bare hands. I’ll kill all of you!” She was struggling as much as she could, but the man pinning her was apparently incredibly strong.

“Raymond, you have to stop this,” Eve pleaded. “You don’t understand what’s going on here- if you don’t let us-”

“Be quiet!” He snapped. He backhanded her across the face before moving towards Villanelle. Eve, dazed from the impact, felt blood in her mouth.

“I’ll kill you for that!” Villanelle spat at him. He hit her too then, harder, and Eve watched as Villanelle's head snapped to the side. A few seconds later, she spat blood out as well.

“I don’t think you will,” Raymond jeered. “Now, Ms. Astankova. Let’s try this again. You’re going to come with me to the constabulary in Winchester, where a friend of mine is going to help me put you away for good. These men are here to help us proceed without issue.”

Eve found her voice. “You don’t have any proof! You have to stop!”

Raymond turned to face Eve and her captor. He jabbed a meaty finger in her face as he addressed the man behind her. “If she speaks again, you go ahead and you use that pipe, and you shut her the hell up!”

The man holding her grunted, and she felt his grip tighten. She shut her mouth. What else could she do?

Raymond turned back to Villanelle. “I know you’re behind all this. I know you murdered all those people. You’ve been at it for years. I just can’t quite figure out how, but I’m sure I’ll be able to get it out of you, sooner or later. You’ll find I can be very persuasive.”

He lashed forward and punched her in the ribs. Villanelle gasped and doubled over as best she could while still being held by the brute behind her. Eve, not wanting to risk punishment of her own, didn’t dare open her mouth. But she struggled as violently as she could in her best show of anger.

Raymond let Villanelle gasp and recover for a few moments before he punched her again, lower and at her side, near her kidney. She cried out that time, and would have nearly slumped to the ground had the other man not been holding her up.

She panted heavily for a few moments before Eve heard her growl, “You are going to regret doing that, Inspector.”

“Am I? Hm,” Raymond hummed with far too much enthusiasm. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and made a quick call. “Bring the car around, we’re ready.”

As the two men walked their prisoners towards the front of the house, Eve felt again as though she were walking through a dream. Only, instead of the dull, floating feeling of before, this time the world felt sharp and unpleasant. This time she felt everything with a brutal awareness. This was most certainly a nightmare.

At one point, it seemed as though Villanelle was trying to say something to Eve, but with Eve’s own captor fighting to manage her in his arms, if she did say something it was lost in the sounds of the struggle. Then, sooner than Eve would’ve liked, they were at the front of the house, being firmly held captive and watching a lone car trundle down the gravel road towards them.

“Now,” Raymond said as he turned to face them both again. Moonlight shone off the top of his head, making a wispy forest of his thinning red hair. “I do feel sorry that you were tangled up in all of this, Ms. Polastri, so I won’t insist that you go with us any further. In fact, I’d rather prefer it if you didn’t.”

The car pulled up, and Raymond flung open the back door. The man holding Villanelle stepped forward, and Raymond snapped a pair of handcuffs around her wrist before the man shoved her inside. He followed quickly after, and Raymond shut the door. Then, the inspector climbed into the front passenger seat. He shut the door and rolled down the window.

“Leave her,” he instructed.

Eve felt the arms holding her vanish, and the sudden loss of support sent her stumbling. She caught herself and watched the man that had been holding her begin walking to the other side of the car.

“No!” She cried. She forced herself forwards and lunged at his back, but he had nearly a foot of height on her and easily twice as much bulk. He rolled his shoulders to the side and swung his arm back towards her. She barely brought her hand up in time. The blow connected with her forearm and sent her clattering to the ground behind the car.

She gasped at the impact of her body on the dirt, and once air returned to her lungs she called out, “You have to stop!”

But it was already too late. The car began to pull away, leaving her in a cloud of dust on the driveway.

“No,” she gasped. “No.”

As the taillights grew ever smaller, leading away towards the forest, Eve pushed herself up from the ground and swore loudly. “Fuck!”

She yelled it at the moon and the stars and the darkness all around her, and whoever else might be listening.

_Whoever else._

She cursed, under her breath this time, as she turned back towards the manor and began to stumble her way towards Konstantin’s unconscious body.

* * *

  
  


From the moment the car had begun to move, Villanelle had felt eerily calm. She had fought and struggled when Eve had been in danger, but now that Eve had been safely left behind, she no longer felt the same fear and panic.

Why should she? Eve was safe. Eve would not see her turn. Eve would not witness all the terrible acts she was about to commit. She had promised Raymond his death, and she would have it.

Her tranquillity only went so far as her mind. Her body was already feeling the adrenaline kick in. Her heart rate was climbing. Her muscles would soon begin to spasm. The bones would snap and realign. Fur would sprout in patches along the backs of her hands and along the length of her back. Her perfect blonde hair would shrivel and shorten and darken until it resembled the same fur that would cover her entire body. Normally, it was nothing to relish. But this time... this time it would be a worthwhile pain.

She ran her tongue over her teeth. There- she could feel them, the canines growing in; sharp, vicious bones meant to torture and tear. She could almost feel the blood in her body pumping faster, preparing to warp in service of an entirely different animal. Any moment now, the transformation would shift from its slow, cautious footsteps to its breakneck, jarring pace.

She leaned forward and craned her head sideways in order to look out the window. They were passing through the forest now, naked trees all around them. Their leaves had nearly all fallen with the latest chill in the air. And there, cresting above them, hung the swollen, white moon. She stared at it for as long as she could before Raymond’s henchman pulled her back roughly and forced her against the seat.

She had a moment to wonder if Eve would forgive her, but Eve had never really seemed bothered by her killing before. Only that one man, but he had been a friend. These men, well, they were far from friends. She felt her lips pull into a smile. Was it the thought of Eve, or the thought of killing, that had tugged her muscles so?

She supposed, in a few moments, it wouldn’t really matter.

* * *

  
  


Eve reached Konstantin just as he was coming to consciousness. He groaned weakly and sat up, his hand finding his head.

“Konstantin!” Eve crouched down next to him and put one arm under his armpit, preparing to hoist him off the ground. “Get up! They took her.”

“Ah, slowly!” He winced as she pulled at him. “What happened?”

Eve huffed in frustration, although it was hardly Konstantin’s fault. He _had_ been hit with a lead pipe. She told him as much. “You got hit with a pipe. Once you were out, they grabbed Villanelle and I and forced her into the car.”

“Who’s they?”

“Raymond and- and his, uh, henchmen, I guess?”

“Henchmen?” Konstantin repeated, rubbing his temple.

Eve huffed again. “I don’t care how it sounds, you have to get up and help me go after them! Don’t you have a- a car or something?”

Konstantin pushed himself up on wobbly legs. “Yes, yes, alright. Let’s go.” He began to stumble back towards the front of the manor. Eve hurried alongside him, supporting him where she could.

They passed the front door and continued around the side of the house near the garden. Past the garden stood a stone building that Eve had never bothered looking around in.

“Garage,” Konstantin mumbled as they continued onward. “You’ll have to pull the doors for me.”

Eve saw then that the garage had two massive barn style doors. They were on tracks and could be pulled sideways when the car needed to be brought in and out. Not very efficient, but stylish, she supposed. She left Konstantin to himself as she rushed forward and began to pull one of the large doors across its track. As she did, Moonlight spilled into the dark garage, illuminating the shape of a low, black sedan. Once one door was open, Konstantin shuffled inside and pulled a key off a nearby ring. He unlocked the driver’s side door and climbed in. Once Eve had the other garage door pulled open, he turned on the car and began to pull out of the building. Eve hopped in the passenger seat and then they were off.

“They can’t have gotten far," Eve heard herself say. She wasn't even aware of making the decision to say something. She just couldn’t stand the silence. She couldn’t stand the thought of Villanelle with those men. Let alone what was about to happen with the transformation. Realistically, Villanelle probably wasn’t in any danger at all. But... the risk of setting her loose, of her being out of control. Eve couldn’t stand the thought of it. It was not at all what she’d planned.

“Relax, Eve,” Konstantin was saying. “She will be fine.”

“Fine?” Eve snorted. “She’s about to- to- you know what’s about to happen! How can you say this is fine?”

Konstantin pulled a small, clear bottle from his coat pocket. He began sipping heavily from it, one hand tight on the wheel. Eve could smell it from across the car – it was almost certainly vodka. “Because I have been doing this for much longer than you,” he said by way of an explanation.

Eve rolled her eyes. “Fine. But hurry up!” She insisted, and, in an effort to curb her anxieties, she began to flick at the latch of the glovebox.

“Stop doing that,” Konstantin muttered. They were pulling onto the main driveway and heading toward the forest, now. Konstantin wasn’t driving nearly as fast as Eve would have liked.

“I can’t help it,” she shot at him. “I’m about six seconds away from full-blown panic.”

“Oh?” Konstantin laughed gruffly and waved a hand in her direction. “This is not panic?”

Eve ignored him and continued to flick at the latch.

“Stop it. It annoys me,” he snapped at her as he reached sideways and swiped at her hand. She jerked her hand sideways and caught the latch fully. The glovebox dropped open to reveal the owner’s manual and a handgun. Eve turned to Konstantin.

“You keep a gun in your car?”

“This surprises you?” Konstantin leaned away and turned his attention to the road. “You have already seen that I own a rifle.

“Yes, but this is-” Eve stared at the pistol. “Handguns are outlawed.”

“Are they? That is good to know.”

A thought crept into her head, insidious and disturbing. Eve turned to Konstantin, her voice low and dangerous. “Is this for her?

“What?”

“Do you keep this in case- in case she is ever out of control?”

Konstantin gave her a quick glance from the corner of his eyes. “No,” he replied curtly.

“No?” Eve repeated, unconvinced.

“No-” Konstantin’s voice was gruffer. He reached across the console and slammed the glove box shut, startling Eve. “-because she is always out of control.”

Eve opened her mouth to respond, but just then she felt the car beginning to slow. She turned her attention forwards and looked ou the windshield.

Raymond’s car was ahead of them. It was stopped in the middle of the road, not even pulled off to the side. Its engine was still running, its lights on, its back passenger doors open. There was no sign of movement coming from the car. Konstantin slowed to a halt.

“Give me the gun,” he commanded. Eve, faced with the reality of what was before them, didn’t see fit to argue. She opened the glove box again and placed the pistol in Konstantin’s waiting hand.

“What about me?”

He looked over at her uncertainly. “You want a weapon?”

“Well, yes.”

For a brief moment, he had the audacity to appear amused. Then he shook his head. “I only have the one gun. There’s an axe in the trunk if you are truly desperate but otherwise, just stay behind me.”

With that, he cut the engine and threw open the driver’s side door. Eve had little choice but to follow. She did decide to grab the axe from the trunk before they left the car too far behind. Its weight was unfamiliar in her hands, but she felt a bit safer for it.

Konstantin led the way from their car to Raymond’s. Although they had seen no movement, the car was far from in good shape. The back seat was torn to shreds, seat stuffing and springs making a mess of it. As with the back, the front passenger seat was empty, but the driver’s seat was occupied. The body of a man was there, motionless, his head pressed to the steering wheel. Eve peeked around Konstantin’s wide frame to get a better look.

The back of his neck had been completely torn away. She thought that, if she looked close enough, she might find the bones of his spine missing, too. In all honesty, his head was nearly detached from his body. From a distance, he might’ve been sleeping, but up close, the horror was unavoidable.

Blood was spattered along the inside of the windshield, and all over the driver’s seat. The pattern of it continued into the back seat, where Villanelle had clearly been seated when she’d ripped the spine from the man's neck. The driver must have been the first one she’d gone for, as there were no other bodies visible in the immediate vicinity of the car. 

“We’re too late then,” Eve breathed. Ahead of her, Konstantin snorted derisively.

“We were never going to make it on time, Eve.”

With that, he turned from the car and began to track off into the woods. At first, Eve wasn’t sure what he was following but then she noticed a path of blood staining the underbrush; dying leaves and twisting roots and small, glinting red puddles amongst them. It wasn’t long before they heard voices.

Ahead, they came upon a small clearing. Eve’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and she could make out the shape of several figures in the moonlight. As they approached, Konstantin whispered back to her, “Remember what I told you, Eve.”

Eve didn’t bother to reply. She was fixated on the scene unfolding ahead of them, becoming clearer with every forward step.

Bathed in moonlight, two men stood across from a hulking monster. Villanelle’s monster- Oksana’s monster. She hardly seemed to be paying attention to the men, both of whom were pointing handguns at her. She was fixated on the man beneath her. Eve could just make out that it was that man who had first pinned Villanelle at the manor. Her beastly form crouched over him, gouging at his motionless body. Eve watched as with one swing of her claws, she hooked some part of his intestine and tore it from his body. With her other claw, she swiped down and slashed at his face. It would be a miracle if he had any recognizable features left, come morning.

That left the other man to be the one who had hit Konstantin, and Raymond. Both were standing across the clearing from the beast, guns raised. Raymond stood further from Eve and Konstantin's hiding place, while the other man was just a short distance away. The two seemed to be arguing.

“I said ‘shoot it’,” Raymond was urging the man angrily. The other man seemed to be frozen in fear. Raymond, though, didn’t seem to want to risk wasting any bullets, lest the beast didn’t drop as quickly as he hoped it would.

Konstantin crouched in the trees and looked at Eve over his shoulder. “Stay here,” he whispered.

He inched forward to the very edge of the trees. When the moment was right and some signal, unknown to Eve, had passed by, Konstantin lunged forward and grappled the large man around his knees. He cried out, went tumbling down, and he and Konstantin landed in a heap. Raymond, surprised by the sudden action, lowered his gun and backed away from the commotion. Eve, not wanting to be caught in Raymond’s view, began to tiptoe through the trees around the lefthand side of the clearing until she had put Raymond between herself and the beast.

Then, Villanelle or Oksana- Eve wasn’t sure which was correct anymore- looked up from her freshly mauled kill.

The next moment seemed to pass in slow motion. Eve watched Konstantin wrestle with the man on the ground, each fighting to land the other on his back. Raymond shifted his weight and pointed his gun at the two men, but their flailing prevented him from getting a shot off at Konstantin. The beast, alerted by the sounds of the struggle, began to rise from her kill, her jaws dripping with saliva and blood. Her lips curled back into a snarl.

Raymond, his eyes drawn to the movement, turned again to face the monster. He raised his gun again, pointing it towards her chest.

“I _will_ shoot you,” he called to her. Eve could hear the determination and the self-preservation in his voice. She believed he wouldn’t hesitate at all.

The beast, unfazed or not understanding Raymond’s words, continued to stalk closer, lumbering on lanky legs. On the ground, Konstantin grabbed a nearby rock and began to beat the other man with it. Eve heard a sickening crunch but it was tantamount to white noise as she watched, horrified, as Raymond pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit the beast several inches above her heart. She yelped and flinched but otherwise didn’t retreat. Instead, she looked as though she were going to break into a run towards them. She growled louder, the fur along her body standing on end. Eve saw the glinting teeth that had once hovered above her own heart, weeks ago.

Raymond fired again and Eve’s grip on the axe tightened. She needed to move, needed to act, but she was frozen by fear. Where was the woman who had braved the moonlight to face the monster? Where was the woman who had stabbed a wolf between the ribs? She watched as blood gushed out of a second bullet wound, this one lower, along the beast’s ribs. Still, she continued forward.

“Damn you!” Raymond cried out. Eve watched from her vantage point behind him as he raised his arm higher. He was no longer aiming for the beast's heart.

Villanelle could heal, but Eve wasn’t sure she could recover from _that_.

“No!” She found her voice and leapt from the woods. She wouldn’t call it bravery, only irrational instinct. With no other thought in mind besides protecting Villanelle, Eve did the one thing she could to stop Raymond; she swung the axe down hard into his back.

She felt the blade cut through his coat first and then skin, before sinking deep into the muscles of his shoulder. Blood spattered across her face as he cried out in shock and pain. He dropped the gun and began to claw at his back. Eve, surprised at her own actions, staggered backward and away from him as he turned towards her, his face contorted in rage.

“You fucking-”

Before he could finish his sentence, a pair of canine jaws closed in the muscle between his shoulder and his neck. He cried out and staggered to one side, and the beast released him. A large chunk of flesh and muscle had been torn away, and blood poured immediately from the wound. Raymond turned on unsteady feet, bringing himself face to face with the beast.

Up close, Eve was forced to reconcile with just how frightful Villanelle’s monstrous form truly was. She was a hulking figure, broad at the shoulders and lanky everywhere else, with a massive wolf’s head and limbs that seemed too long for her body. Her claws were long and black, her teeth sharp and shining. The inside of her mouth was a red cavern, brighter and bolder than the blood beginning to dry on her chest. Eve found herself backing away, her preservational instincts taking over for once in her life.

Luckily for her, the beast seemed completely uninterested in her for the time being. She was entirely focused on Raymond. As he turned to face her, the beast reached one hand out and closed her fingers around his throat. With the other, she slashed at his ribs, opening up his belly in a gaping wound. Then, she lifted him off the ground and brought her free hand upwards in one swift motion, burying two of her claws deep into the underside of his chin. Raymond gurgled as his throat closed within the beast's grasp, and blood and air mingled in his mouth. Then his body went completely limp.

As easily as she had dispatched him, Villanelle cast him aside. The inspector’s body tumbled into the woods, and Eve might’ve thought about looking for it if she hadn’t had more pressing matters to worry about. With Raymond out of the picture, there was nothing left between her and the beast.

She continued inching backwards, and she winced when her foot snapped a twig. The beast turned towards her abruptly. Eve’s breath caught in her throat. Villanelle- Oksana- took two lumbering steps towards her before Eve heard the sound of a gun go off. The wolf yelped in pain again, and Eve sought out the source of the shot.

It was Konstantin. He had picked himself up from his wrestling match with the other man and was backing away the way they had come, towards the car. He held his gun raised at Villanelle. He had shot into her leg, Eve was relieved to see, and not somewhere more vital.

Still, she shouted, “What are you doing?!”

“Run!” He instructed her, before turning his full attention on the beast. “I’m not going to shoot you again unless you make me.”

The beast began to turn towards him, her lips pulled back in an angry snarl, her chest pitching forward as though she were preparing to pounce. Again, Eve threatened to remain frozen in place. Konstantin’s voice jolted her into action once more. “Run, I said!”

Even if her mind was paralyzed, her body listened, and she turned and fled through the woods, away from the clearing. Behind her, she could hear the beast growl as she continued her advance on Konstantin. Eve wondered how many times they’d danced that dance before.

She fled through the woods, her path lit only by the light of the moon. It was high in the sky now, and she did her best to use its light to spot the branches and brambles that threatened to slow her escape. She wasn’t entirely sure where she was running to. She supposed she should angle back towards the manor, but she was already feeling lost within the sameness of the bare trees around her.

Then, as she threw herself around another tree trunk, she heard a keening howl from behind her. It rang out loud and unbroken in the silence of the night. Eve urged her feet to move faster as she continued her mad dash through the forest. She thought of how the trees had made her feel so safe in the daytime. At night, they were villains, and she was at the mercy of them as she dodged her way through the woods.

She could see a clearing up ahead and- no, it was the manor grounds. She was approaching that same kind of barrier, or absence of, that she’d first encountered so many weeks ago; one second, she was within the trees, the next, she had burst out on to the grounds. She ran for a few seconds longer before she doubled over to catch her breath. The manor was within sight and, unlike the first time she’d arrived on its grounds, this time she found she was extremely comforted by its presence.

Before she could continue running for safety, she heard the sounds of leaves crunching and twigs snapping under heavy footfalls. She didn’t have to turn around to know that the beast had finally caught up to her. But then, the footfalls stopped. She had stopped somewhere behind Eve, watching and waiting for Eve’s next move.

“ _Run and don’t look back.”_

Villanelle’s voice in her mind might have comforted her, had she been reminding Eve of anything else. But this was it; the moment she had warned her about. Everything within her was begging her to run. Everything except- Well, she had come to feel quite strongly about Villanelle, hadn't she? She had come to believe that things could be different; that there was some hope for them despite the monster within.

When she thought about her future, who did she see?

Eve took a moment to curse under her breath. Then, with every vein in her body screaming at her to do anything else, she turned around.

Across the empty field of withering grass, she saw her. She was every bit the same beast Eve remembered from one month ago. Moonlight danced along her fur as she stood, immobile, her bright eyes fixed on Eve. She was no longer snarling, although her breath came in heavy huffs, thick clouds billowing from the sides of her mouth like steam blowing out of a train. Her wounds had stopped their bleeding but Eve thought she could still see pink flesh where Raymond’s bullets had punctured the skin.

Eve stood there, deciding not to run, waiting for the beast to make a move. When she didn’t, Eve braved one step forward. She extended her hand as if offering for Villanelle to take it, and she called, her voice gentle and beckoning,

“Oksana.”

* * *

  
  


  
  


  
  


The waking was never pleasant, that much she knew. She had woken up in ditches, dens, and the garden bed. The shore of the lake, on the floor of the cellar, and buck naked in the middle of the lawn. Of course, the nudity happened every time, regardless of where she was. The nudity, the headache, the soreness and stiffness that had her feeling like she had run a decathlon with fifty-pound weights strapped to her ankles.

This morning was no different. She groaned and opened her eyes. She was on her back and blue sky shone above her, poking through the tree branches like light through a spiderweb. She shivered. Autumn was nearing its end, and she would need to be sure didn’t get loose during the winter nights lest she find herself freezing to death come the mornings.

And then it came back to her; Eve and Raymond and the car. Snapping bones, her own and those of others. She thought she could taste iron on her tongue. She faintly remembered the feel of her claws slashing through the belly of a man. Admittedly, most of the night was a blur. She couldn’t even remember what had happened to Eve.

Fear, unfamiliar and decidedly unpleasant, coiled in her gut. What if she had done something to Eve? The blood in her mouth suddenly tasted like bile, and she rolled onto her side and spat into the dirt. Then, summoning her strength, she pushed herself up and stood on unsteady legs.

As she rose, she took in her surroundings and was happily surprised to find herself near the manor. She was just inside the edge of the forest. That was good. She set off at a quick pace, hurrying across the grounds and towards the manor’s side door.

Once she made it inside, she hurried towards the foyer. Her bare feet met the cold stone of the kitchen floor and then the hardwood of the hall. She saw Konstantin’s heavy overcoat on the coat rack and felt an unexpected surge of relief.

He had made it, at least.

She plucked his coat off the rack and threw it over her shoulders, covering herself with it as she glanced around the entryway. Marks along the floor that she hadn’t noticed previously now caught her eye; a trail of blood, marked by bootprints. She steeled herself and followed them down the hall.

They led her to the parlour room, where she found Konstantin slumped in the chaise lounge. How bizarre to think that merely a day ago she had been curled up there with Eve pressed against her chest.

As she approached Konstantin’s body, she was relieved to see his chest rising and falling, although the gash on his shoulder was an ugly sight to behold. It had been poorly bandaged, and blood stained his clothes. She had no doubts about who had done that little number on him. She winced as she knelt down and roused her uncle from his sleep.

“Konstantin,” she whispered, her voice firm. When he didn’t reply, she spoke louder and shook his uninjured shoulder. “Konstantin!”

He stirred, barely, and his eyelids fluttered as Villanelle drew closer to him. “Where is Eve?”

“How should I know?” He grumbled before his head lolled to one side and he strayed towards unconsciousness again.

“Tch, you are useless,” she growled, although she could hardly blame him. He’d clearly had a rough night, no thanks to her. She only hoped that Eve had fared better.

She would remember if she had harmed Eve, wouldn’t she?

After making sure that Konstantin was sleeping in a comfortable position, she backed away from his body and began to retrace her steps to the front door. She turned and climbed the stairs, not even bothering to stop at the altar. She had seen her mother’s face enough times to know it like the back of her hand. If she had hurt Eve, she knew who she would take it out on.

She climbed the stairs to the east wing and tiptoed down the hall. She wasn’t sure why she was so careful to be quiet. She didn’t want to startle Eve, she supposed. She wasn’t sure what kind of state she would find her in... if she found her at all.

When she came to Eve’s bedroom, she found the door open and the bed empty. She tried not to let panic tie her stomach into knots. She backed away and turned back down the hallway. Unsure of where else to look, she set off towards her bedroom.

This time, she couldn’t contain the apprehension sparking in her veins. She jogged down the hallway to her room, and she pulled herself around the corner with one arm hooked on the wall, using her momentum to arrive there all the sooner.

There, in the dimly lit bedroom, fully clothed and dirty with soot, was Eve. She was asleep on one side of the enormous bed, face down with her head turned towards Villanelle. Her eyes were closed. Her face was stained with blood. Villanelle’s heart leapt into her throat at the sight of it. She _was_ asleep, wasn’t she?

Villanelle crept forward until she reached the bed. She perched herself on the edge of it and leaned towards Eve’s motionless body. She let her fingers trace along Eve’s cheek. She let out a sigh of relief when Eve stirred under the touch. She rolled slightly and opened her eyes slowly, blinking up at Villanelle blearily. A lazy smile crept across her face, and Villanelle felt affection ignite a warm flame in her chest.

“You shouldn’t sleep here,” she whispered, the corner of her mouth pulling into a grin.

"Probably not,” Eve murmured.

They were silent for a few moments, staring at each other with heavy looks and uncooperative tongues. Finally, Villanelle said,

“I was worried I had done something to you.”

Eve took a moment to mull her thoughts over before she replied, “I was worried you might. You didn’t.”

Villanelle frowned. “Will you tell me what happened last night?”

Eve closed her eyes and nodded sleepily. “Later.”

Villanelle frowned. “Are you leaving for London today?”

Eve nodded again. “Later.”

“What happened to-”

Eve reached up and laid her hand across Villanelle’s. “Later,” she murmured. “It was a long night for both of us.”

Villanelle had never been one to hold off on impulse. She drew her legs onto the bed and laid down next to Eve. She nuzzled her nose against hers before she whispered, “It will be a long night again, tonight. And I won’t have you beside me in the morning to look forward to.”

“I know,” Eve replied easily as she curled her body towards the Villanelle’s. “But it’s morning right now, and you have me right here. That’ll just have to do.”

Unable to argue with that, Villanelle sighed and let the tension release from her body. She felt exhaustion setting in, making her eyes drift shut and her limbs feel heavy. It had truly been a long night, and her body had been beaten, bruised and battered. She had earned a true rest, hadn’t she?

It didn’t take long at all for her to begin to drift off. Before sleep could take her, the shadow of a memory tickled at the edge of her mind. A vision of Eve turning around to face her in the moonlight.

“I told you to turn and run.”

Eve didn’t reply. She was either asleep or ignoring her. Villanelle, unbothered by the silence, let the words linger in the air between them. She turned them over in her mind as she conjured up the vision again: Eve turning around to face her. Eve choosing not to run.

Villanelle’s arms tightened around Eve as she began to feel sleep pull her under. Her lips curled into the faintest smile. She forced thoughts of Eve leaving, and Raymond, and Konstantin's shoulder, out of her mind. There would be consequences and questions and uncertainties to follow, but for the time being, she simply enjoyed the feeling of Eve in her arms.

She fell asleep thinking about monsters, but she was no longer so sure that she should be counted among them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, and thank you thank you thank you for all the support y'all have given this story from the very beginning <3 its been a ride and i appreciate all of you joining me for it


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